Prussian Blue
by Av H
Summary: In the late 19th century, the Western world was connected by a system of alliances as the Great European Powers attempt to balance their influence, slowly escalating towards war...Historically based, starting from German unification to the end of WWI. Sorry, not a Germancest. Mainly about brotherhood between Prussia and Germany with sideplot of PrussiaxHungary
1. Prologue

_Ok, just a little note. I'm very particular about historical accuracy because I'm weird like that, and because I love history. Hetalia's just made me love it more 3 So everything I write, including this, will be very historically based and I really do spend an insane amount of time researching historical details and terms for weaponry, titles, etc. I really did try my best to make this as accurate as possible with the addition of awesomical Hetalia-ness, so I hope you like!_

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><p>Coronation<p>

The ceilings were gilded, soaring high like the heavens, with a colorful array of angels, trumpets , and the faces of the divine. Statues and likenesses of the mythical and the historical flanked the hall. Sparkling crystals integrated into complex, massive chandeliers draped down the grand hall, loftily carrying flickering candles to light up the room. But its most defining feature was not the arching ceiling or the bright crystals. It was the mirrors. Mirrors tall and wide, that yielded perfect recreations of the scene in front of them. Mirrors that lined the walls, like trained soldiers that always told the truth. No, the mirrors never lied.

The scene reflected in the mirrors that day was quite a sight. Foot soldiers flanked the hall, perched with spiked helmets and heavy rifles with needle points*. Many held banners of white and black, proudly displaying the single black eagle dominating the flag. Men of the highest statures were gathered, men with upright, straight backs and hard jaws, all dressed in the finest uniforms of dark blue or white, adorned with silver medals and gold-colored shoulder straps. They filled the room with a sense of overwhelming solemnity. At the end of the room, on carpeted platform, stood bearded men with intensely focused gazes that gave off an overwhelming air of authority.

Standing at the very front of the crowd, closest to the platform, was an odd duo. A man with a tall, trim figure, in the same dark blue uniform with golden trimmings lining his uniform and golden epaulettes* fixed to his shoulders. But he was different. The way he stood, the way he held his body. Aggression. Striking platinum hair, messy and short. Wild. Eyes like two bloody rubies, the glint in them almost malicious. Ambition. The smirk that hovered at the corners of his mouth. Excitement. However, he held a hand. A small hand. It belonged to a small boy, whose head around his guardian's waist. He was dressed in a simplified, mini military uniform, complete with shoulder strap, belt, and boots. A necklace of a black cross rested on his chest. The boy's light blonde hair was cropped short but neatly and slightly militaristic in style. His round, blue eyes betrayed no emotion, serious and focused but somehow absentminded at the same time.

One by one, the soldiers flanking the hall drew their swords, raising their curved sabers in a hail towards the man who now proceeded down the hall towards the platform. He was a man of stately stature, even in his age. His head was bald, but his sideburns plentiful, with two orderly strokes of white above his tight lips. His dark eyes were especially discernible by their extreme concentration, characterized by frowning eyebrows and a square jaw. Though he was dressed in a similar albeit more decorated version of the blue uniform, every step he took was characterized by precision, purpose, and power*. The men saluted him as he passed. He ascended the steps to the platform with absolute confidence, and turned to face the uniformed men below, who had assembled around the platform in an orderly fashion. His eyes scanned the assemblage of men gathered in front of him, lingering a split second longer on the faces of the platinum-haired man and the blonde boy. A man nearby on the platform raised his arms up in the air for attention. Then, he began to spin a proclamation* out of powerful words. His words resounded across the hall, echoing through the arched ceilings.

"Whereas the German princes and the free cities have unanimously called upon us to renew and to assume, with the restoration of the German Empire…"

The man with blood-colored eyes turned to gaze down at the boy beside him, and his expression suddenly softened into a slight smile marked by glowing pride.

"…We, Wilhelm, by the grace of God King of Prussia, do herewith declare that we have considered it a duty to our common fatherland to answer the summons of the united German princes and cities and to accept the German imperial title. In consequence…"

"Oi, Ludwig," the albino man whispered in a raspy voice.

The little boy looked up, a hint of curiosity in dull blue eyes.

"Hm?"

"Today, this man is no longer just King of Prussia. He is also Deutscher Kaiser*. He is_ our_ king." He grinned down at the boy with excitement he could barely contain. For so long, he had awaited this day.

The boy seemed to ponder for a moment, then nodded seriously. "Yes, Bruder." Then, they both turned their attention back on the King.

"… And may God grant that We and our successors on the imperial throne may at all times increase the wealth of the German Empire, not by military conquests, but by the blessings and the gifts of peace, in the realm of national prosperity, liberty, and morality. Wilhelm I, Kaiser und König*."

A loud cheer arose as all the men raised their swords, banners, rifles, helmets in a unified hurrah. "All hail Kaiser Wilhelm I!" they roared. "All hail the King!" The mirrors shook with its overwhelming force.

Gilbert Weillschmidt's red eyes shone with sheer pride as he cheered with them, his loud raspy voice distinctive in the chorus of Prussian blue. Gilbert squeezed Ludwig's small hand tightly.

"All hail the Kaiser!"

_I've raised you, and I'll nurture you even more, _Gilbert thought as he cheered, _I'll give you all you need, all my resources, all my care, everything. Because I made a promise to myself that you'll grow up this time. You'll grow up to be powerful and strong. I'll make sure that you do._

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><p>* The spiked helmets I refer to are a specialty of the Prussian army, the pickelhaube, which has a single metal spike sticking out from the middle of the round helmet. The needle point guns are the Prussian trademark Dreyse needle point guns, which were made famous during the Austro-Prussian War for their success. However, they were less of a success during the Franco-Prussian War, in which the French made an improved version called the Chassepot rifle.<p>

* Epaulette- it's those decorative shoulder pieces on military uniforms you see on military uniforms with those golden bristles and stuff.

* This guy that I just wasted something like five sentences describing is King Wilhelm I of Prussia, and also the first emperor of the German Empire, aka _Kaiserreich_ or Second Reich (empire).

* The Imperial Proclamation, January 18, 1871.

* German Emperor/Emperor of Germany. Kaiser means Emperor.

* Kaiser and King.

This is me citing my sources! -Proud Otaku

Sorry this isn't in MLA for all of you by-the-book people out there, but citation machine's down tonight and I don't feel like going into more detail than this for now. Might re-update this though, 'cuz I'm a perfectionist. (Just not in the mood right now that's all xP)

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.com/


	2. Part 1

_Ok, so here's the dealioso. This story has been put on hold for like half a year. I know, insanely long time. But I've been really occupied with Cosa Nostra and some other stuff, and eventually lost the spark for this. But thanks to my awesome European history class, now it's back. ^^ So, anewayz, it's all about Prussia and the rise of Germany. Then WWI. Oh, yeah, and it's Pruhun (my OTP). Warning: I over-footnote. Slack if ur lazy? Enjoiiiii~_

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><p>Prussia had known him for all his life. He had been carved into his memory since Prussia first gained consciousness. He had always been there. During every coronation and every war. He was <em>always<em> there, like a simple fact of nature. The boy. The boy who never grew up.

He had golden blonde locks that were the color of the sun and eyes as blue as the deep ocean, ebbing and flowing with the tide. His temper was like the unpredictable waves, sometimes calm, sometimes spontaneous, but when the storm was past, all was well. Proud and commanding. Always donned in grandeur and magnificence, behind fur robes and jeweled crowns.

But he was very ill. The ill little Brüder. In fact, it was strange, because in Prussia's earlier memories, he distinctly remembered the boy to be big Brüder. But then, one day, he was little Brüder.

They all lived together, all the Brüders, together and fighting. All the time fighting over things big and small, just like any large family of energetic boys. But eventually they all grew up tough and strong. Except for him. The ill little Brüder. Because he was different. Because he was so very ill, they said, sick down to his very bones. Prussia understood from the very beginning that it was because they fought. But fighting was also a fact. A fact perhaps even more solid than nature itself.

_**Reichskanzlei**_** (Reich Chancellory)**

**September 30, 1879**

**Noon**

"What? No! I _absolutely refuse _to do this job!" Blood-red eyes aghast with horror.

"Calm yourself, Beillschmidt. You look like a devastated child who just had his toys taken away." An aged man, authoritative, prominent brow bones, square jaw, thick white eyebrows and matching handlebar mustache, sat with a grave expression on his face, rough hands folded together on the desk.

"No! You listen to me, old man!" Prussia pointed an accusatory finger at him. "I don't care how many times you threaten to resign!* I am NOT going to bow down to that _prissy aristocrat_ and get on my knees just so he can sign a few pieces of paper!"

The Chancellor*sighed, exhaustion seeping through his somber face. "Nobody wants you to get on your knees. All we want is an alliance with Austria-Hungary*. It shouldn't be too hard to do, considering we don't have to mess around with translators."

"B-but," he stammered, desperate for an excuse, _any _excuse, "But you _know_ what he's like! He'll leech off of us until our treasury runs dry!"

"It's a mutual alliance, don't be irrational. Trust me, as long as I'm chancellor, our treasury is quite safe," the Chancellor replied solemnly, "This alliance will prove to be beneficial in defending ourselves against the Russians. I trust you support me on this."

"Fine, then send somebody else! Why me? Ludwig can go by himself, he can handle it!" The nation's complaints bordered on hysteria as he pounded loudly on the desk with his fists, toppling several neat stacks of paper onto the floor.

"Now, that's quite enough! You're whining like a little kid. If Ludwig were of age, I _would _send him by himself, considering he's already more of an adult than you. But unfortunately, you are Prussia and you are his guardian. Now get your act together! Oh, will you- Stop pounding on the desk!" The Chancellor sprang out of his seat, training his piercing gaze into stubborn red eyes. His opponent glared back with equal menace. But Prussia knew he had already lost. The Iron Chancellor always wins. Always.

After another minute of intense Prussian stare down, the nation finally relented. "Fine!"

"Good," the Chancellor resettled back into his chair. "Go prepare yourself. The coach leaves tomorrow morning half past eight. You will be accompanied by Ludwig and Fürsten Reuss*. At least _one _of them should be able to keep their heads, unlike you."

The disgruntled Prussian rolled his eyes. "Shut up, old man."

**Outside **_**Stadtschloss**_

**October 1, 1879**

**8:30 pm**

"Are you ready, _Brüder_?"

Grudgingly, Prussia stepped into the relatively spacious black coach, prying at his tight collar uncomfortably with his fingers. All that ran through his mind was, _Gott, I hate foreign relations. _He gave the young, well-built blonde an irritated look and settled down next to him. His brother already peaked above him slightly even while sitting down.

"I don't see why we can't just ride. The coach makes me sick," he grumbled across the limited space Reuss. The three were an odd trio. The dignified old Prince with thinning grey hair but flawless posture. The serious, young blonde with neat, well-carved features and steady cobalt eyes. The silver-haired, scowling Prussian with a clean-cut face and wild, ruby pupils. All donned in tight-fitting dark, formal, military dress with gold or silver collars and epaulettes.

"We are not initiating a siege on Vienna, Meister* Beilschmidt. Riding would simply be inappropriate," Reuss sighed, knowing the man all too well. He'd known Gilbert Beilschmidt for a long time, after all. He had his first glimpse of the man as a student training for diplomatic relations in Berlin. He had admired the man then—and he still did—but Gilbert was simply the worst diplomat ever.

The carriage jolted as it began to move smoothly along the paved road. Prussia harrumphed and crossed his arms, staring out the window with a bored expression. "We could've at least taken the rail…" he mumbled to himself. His complaints were lost in sound of the wheels landing on rougher ground. _All that money spent on road construction, and still this!_ He leaned his head out the window and sighed. It was going to be a long, tedious trip to Vienna.

"Right, we should go over terms of the treaty," the young Germany proposed after rocking along for a good half hour.

"Yes, that is an excellent idea," Reuss agreed, "The Chancellor especially emphasized that we offer them our support only in the condition that they offer us theirs. Also that we must keep this treaty peaceful and unknown to other powers. Remember, the goal is to create an alliance that will ensure an ally upon possible attack by enemy nations." Reuss was a true and experienced diplomat, well-spoken with a strategic mind. He expressed himself with eloquence and clarity upon the mention of the subject. Germany listened intently while Prussia pretended to not hear them at all as he continued to gaze aimlessly out the window at the endless row of trees whizzing by.

"Understood," Germany nodded, then asked after a short pause, "What kind of a man is Andrássy*?

"He is a diplomat," was Reuss's short answer.

"But surely they will not refuse this offer," the young man pursued, "It will benefit them as much as it will benefit us. They, too, need an ally, especially considering the recent falling out with Russia."

"Yes, you are right. However, we must still remain careful, as any diplomat should. It is your first time negotiating firsthand, Ludwig. But you will do well, nonetheless," Reuss finished with a hint of pride. He had single-handedly taught Ludwig everything about foreign relations, from formal etiquette to reading between the lines, and Reuss was sure of his levelheaded student's talent.

A light scoff from beside him. Germany turned his head slightly to observe his brother from the corner of his eye. _Strange. He would usually be asleep by now. After all, the real reason that he hates carriages is because it puts him to sleep like magic. But it looks as if he hasn't slept for days. I wonder...why he dreads Vienna so much…_

**Outside **_**Schloss Schönbrunn**_

**October 6, 1879**

**8:47 am**

The carriage creaked to a final stop. After five whole days of nearly endless travel, the three German ambassadors were anxious to get their feet on the ground again.

"Brüder, we are here."

Prussia felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He snapped awake, tumbling out of the carriage and landing on slightly unsteady feet. He had been sleeping in a strange position for too long, and having outlandish dreams. The smooth, paved ground felt good underneath his toes.

He raised his head to face the tall, black palace gates flanked by two grand pillars that rose high into the sky, a golden eagle perched on the point of each pillar. The palace behind the gates sprawled across the plaza, mighty and elegant. Arched windows covered the auburn-cream building in symmetric rows. The building itself formed a rectangular plaza in front, which was sealed off with the front gate.

Prussia scoffed. _Nice try. But I've been to Versailles*_.

Two soldiers in decorative uniform approached and slowly opened the great gates from the inside. A middle-aged royal attendant, dressed in an old-fashioned bright blue garb, rushed over to greet them.

"_Willkommen_*_! Willkommen_, Meisters and Your Excellency. I apologize beforehand for the small scale of our greeting, but due to the nature of your visit, it is rather unfortunate we cannot entertain you further," he exclaimed with a low bow to the three men before him. "This way please. His Majesty has been anxiously awaiting your arrival."

The three diplomats glanced at each other, then followed the attendant with swift, long strides across the plaza.

_It's been a while, hasn't it…but it's as if nothing has changed,_ thought Prussia as he observed the surrounding grandeur and lavishly-dressed guards that lined the outside of the building. _They really are stuck in their old ways_*_. All the better for me. _

A flash of brown hair at the window suddenly caught his eye. Then it was gone. And the window was empty for the exception of floral silver draperies. Prussia stopped in his tracks and squinted at the window. But there was not a trace. No movement.

"Meister Beillschmiedt? What is the matter?" the attendant politely inquired, stopping in his tracks. The other two were already a few steps ahead.

"What room is that? Right there?" Prussia pointed to the window on the third floor that directly faced him, a deep frown pressing down on his forehead.

"That is the piano room, Meister Beillschmidt. Surely you must know of Meister Edelstein's love for the musical arts, yes?"

"…Yes, of course. _Danke_." With one last glance, Prussia turned away to catch up with his two companions.

Once they stepped through the magnificent double doors, they were greeted by a blur of polished marble floors, carved white walls sprawled with blooming gilded flowers, and golden chandeliers suspended from the vibrantly-painted ceiling that portrayed the heavens. The typical visitor usually became overwhelmed and dazed by the extravagant colors and shine, but the three were unfazed. They continued to follow the attendant at a business-like pace while the servants all stopped to bow as they passed.

The attendant led them up two flights of marble stairs and through several hallways, until they reached a long hall with light wooden floors. A tall, arched, double door of white with golden spiraling flowers climbing up its sides was visible at the other end. Two palace guards were stationed on either side of the door, looking rather tired.

As they approached, the sound of a muted piano emerged through the uniform pit-pat of their quick, powerful footsteps. Music, that poured out from behind the white doors, like a stream that gently caressed one's ears. It was gentle and graceful, with a slightly familiar melody, but also firm in a unique duality. The notes suddenly sped up into a crescendo as they neared the door, though it did not break the delicate elegance. The melody did not cease to flow.

"Announcing the arrival of: Meister Gilbert Beillschmidt, Meister Ludwig Beillschmidt, and Fürsten Reuss of Köstritz!"

The music stopped. The doors swung open slowly to reveal a sun-bathed room with large French-style windows and long, silver curtains. There were three people, all very different. One man dark-haired and bespectacled in a dark purple waistcoat over a neat white shirt, sitting at a grand piano in the middle of the room, hands still resting on the keys. Another man, old, bearded, but dignified, donned in a white formal uniform, sat next to him in a red, gilded armchair. And the last was a woman, who stood with her back to the guests, facing the window with a thick book in her hands. Her figure was exquisite but full of strength, emphasized by the cuirasse bodice* of her emerald green dress. Thre layers of the finest fabric draped majestically down to the floor to create a slight train.

The woman whipped around, long brown hair flying with the abrupt movement. Then, everyone stopped. The three visitors simply stood in silence while three pairs of eyes were fixed on _him_. Three pairs of very different eyes. Faded blue, deep violent, and brilliant green. All fixed on the young Germany. Faded blue was wary. Deep violet was shocked. Brilliant green was pained. A complex kind of pain.

Hungary's green eyes flickered to the Prussian standing next to his brother, who was staring straight back at her. The corners of his mouth lifted up slightly, then relaxed again. He was wearing his glowing ride with dignity. The intense ruby red was just as she had remembered: a paradox. They were rash and sly, careless and ambitious, wild and clever all at the same time. She quickly averted his gaze and looked back to Germany. The youth was calm and unrevealing, though rather stiff at the unexplained tension in the room. Her expression softened, and she immediately set down the book and stepped forward to greet them, breaking into a bright smile.

"Guten Tag, Meister Beillschmidt"- a curt nod to the white-haired Prussian- "Your Excellency," –a deep bow to Reuss—" and you must be Meister Beillschmidt's brother. It is…an honor, Meister Ludwig Beillschmidt. " Her voice wavered as she lowered herself into another bow for Germany. She was determined to keep calm, though her legs were already slightly shaky.

"_Danke_, Mätresse*Edelstein, for your hospitality. I am the one who is honored." He bowed back, deep voice solemn and steady.

A sharp throb of pain in Hungary's chest. _So that's what he would have sounded like…what he _should_ have sounded like. _

Austria immediately arose to greet his guests, quickly recovering from his stunned state. "Excuse my rudeness, gentlemen. Welcome to _Schloss Schönbrunn_." His voice was smooth and almost musical. He dipped his head in a slight bow, which all three men returned. Then, he turned sideways, politely gesturing to the old, distinguished man sitting in the red armchair behind him.

"May I present to you, His Imperial and Royal Majesty* Franz Joseph I*."

One by one, all three German diplomats went forward and lowered themselves onto one knee, head lowered in respect.

"You may rise." They did as was told.

"An honor, Your Imperial and Royal Majesty," Reuss said with a polite smile. The Emperor nodded back, then spoke.

"It's a shame Bernhard*couldn't be here with us. But Andrássy will join you promptly this afternoon. As for now, might I interest you in a turn about the garden?" He gestured for one of the servants standing against the wall to help him onto his feet.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Reuss replied, and followed alongside the sovereign as they exited the room. Prussia rolled his eyes after their backs were turned, but received a pat on his shoulder.

"Come, Brüder," said Germany, shooting him a meaningful look. Prussia sighed, and the four nations began after the two aged men.

"I see nothing has changed," said Austria, with a sideways glance at the Prussian.

"Same to you, fancy pants," Prussia shot back.

"I am a cultured individual. Although I'm sure you would understand nothing of the kind."

"You got somethin' to say? Because last time I saw you, you were barely breathing!*"

"Barbarian!"

"Aristocrat!"

…

"Oh, _Isten*_. Every time…" Hungary mumbled to no one in particular, sandwiched between the two German brothers unwillingly.

"Are they always like this?" Germany inquired, his interest piqued. His brother was always easy to anger, but he'd never seen him so agitated before.

" Unfortunately, yes. I thought the treaty was going to be signed for sure, but now I'm having second thoughts," Hungary said with tired eyes.

"I thought they were only unfriendly on political terms," Germany urged. He longed to hear the opinion of another one of his kind, since the only nation that he's spoken more than a few words to was his brother.

"_Nem*_. They really do dislike each other…" The two had dropped a little behind the arguing duo to observe them from behind.

"I see…Excuse me, but how do you know my brother?" Germany couldn't hold back his curiosity.

"Hmmm…" Hungary pondered for a while. "I've known him for a long time. It was back when we were both kids. We used to fight, sometimes together and sometimes against each other. If my memory serves correctly, I am actually older than him." She laughed a little at this thought. "But I guess you wouldn't remember…do you?" She raised one eyebrow questioningly at the young nation. _Prussia probably never told him…No, that idiot is too stupid._ She knew by the slightly taken aback expression on Germany's face.

"No, of course not. I was born only several decades ago."

A sad smile on Hungary's face. "And yet you are strong."

"Oh, um…_Danke, Mätresse_. But I cannot attest to that just yet."

The woman flashed him an encouraging smile. "You are healthy, _kedves*_. It's all that matters."

They were silent for a while as they listened to the two fuming men spout insults at each other ahead of them. After Prussia's comeback about Austria looking like a woman, Hungary couldn't help but burst into laughter. And it was at that moment that Germany noticed how unnaturally the woman walked, as if she was uncomfortable in her clothes. Sure she carried herself beautifully -chin high and upright- like a proper lady. But there was something deeper in that gait, something she was trying so very hard to conceal. However, her laughter had given it all away. She laughed openly, freely, without holding back, as if her laughter could contain the sky. _What an interesting woman… Hungary… I've heard so many stories, about how she could bring down thousands in battle with a single sword and dagger._

"I think he did a good job with you, though," she said, her mood significantly uplifted, "Though I didn't take him for the childcare type."

Germany paused to think. "I suppose he's not. But he was good at military training. It happened to work."

Hungary gave him a concerned look. "Oh, dear. How young were you?"

"I don't remember. Probably only about this tall." Germany put his hand about two and a half feet off the ground. "It was only physical training at first. Running, pushups, pull-ups, that kind of thing. When I got old enough, he taught me how to use the weapons. Guns, swords, even some things that I don't think I will ever use. He was insistent that I stay strong. When I became ill, he would only tell me it was because I didn't train hard enough," then, at the horrified look on Hungary's face, he quickly added, "But he's lenient on everything else. Gott, I don't think he would refuse if I asked him for a castle."

He liked this woman in a bizarre, kinship kind of way, and found himself telling her many things he's never even told his brother.

Her expression softened at this. "Does he still laugh in that strange way?"

Germany cracked a smile. "_Ja_. There's nothing quite like it."

Hungary threw back her head and laughed. The funniest part was that Ludwig was right. Never in her one thousand years had she heard anything remotely close to his laughter.

Then, Prussia suddenly twisted his head around. "Hey, Hungary! How can you stand this _Schwutel*_?"

"Brüder!" Germany exclaimed disapprovingly. But to his surprise, Hungary was already one step ahead of him. She sprang forward and gave Prussia a lightning fast smack across the face.

"_Fogd be a szád*_!" she screamed in all her tightly-corseted glory.

"Hey! That hurt, you crazy bitch!"

"What did you call me?"

"Crazy bitch!"

Smack.

Germany was speechless. Suddenly, he had no problem imagining her trailblazing across an army of frightened troops. He trailed behind his three supposed seniors, who were all caught up in a fiery argument about nothing at all. And the most incomprehensible part was how they seemed to assume this was normal. _Perhaps it doesn't matter how long you've lived. I guess some things never change. _

The room was empty. Just one large empty table and several empty chairs. One big empty wooden room. It was ancient, this room. Prussia wondered how many words of inspiration, anger, and passion have been exchanged in the very spot that he was sitting right now. But it was the same for everyone. In every nation, there was a room like this. The one room no one wanted to be in all by himself. And yet, here he was, awaiting the rest with his patience quickly wearing thin.

Ludwig and Reuss were discussing strategies for the upcoming treaty while Austria, being the prissy aristocrat that he was, had to "retire" to his room to "prepare." And for some reason, Hungary had to follow him. So that left him, Prussia, alone, to stare at the walls covered with the Habsburg* crest and coat of arms. The flames crackled weakly in the fireplace as Prussia leaned back and put his feet up on the table. To hell with manners, he might as well make himself comfortable.

Without warning, the great wooden doors swung open and shut again with a heavy clang. "Enjoying yourself?"

Prussia almost fell out of his chair. "Gott, Hungary!"

She only laughed. Prussia recollected himself and peered up at the woman standing before him. She was dressed in men's clothing, a formal dark green military uniform, white and red breeches, and black military boots. Nevertheless, she was a woman, and the uniform hugged her feminine curves in an oddly pleasing way. She grinned down at him almost proudly.

Prussia smirked. "I see you haven't broken that old habit."

"Why would I? It feels like liberation." She stretched her arms, exalting the feeling of strength that ran through them as she did. Then, she dragged out a chair and plopped right down next to him, propping one leg over the other shamelessly, just like a man.

"You keep that up and they'll burn you at the stake."

They both laughed, like a few soldiers enjoying some good beer together.

"_Nein. _Truthfully, I prefer this. I can't imagine how he forced you into that…that getup," Prussia continued after his fits of laughter died down.

Hungary shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. "It's not that bad really."

"You're lying." A sly grin emerged on the Prussian's face as Hungary tried (unsuccessfully) to remain cool.

"I know for a fact that you value your masculinity just as much as the next guy."

Hungary shot him an annoyed glare. "You know just the wrong thing to say. As always."

"Kesesese! It's a natural talent," he cackled.

She emitted a low growl.

"You know I'm awesome." A smug grin.

"I know you're stupid," she shot back.

"At least I'm not stupid enough to get married," he said in an irritated voice.

Dead silence. For the first time in her life, Hungary could honest say that she had no idea how to respond. She finally gave a little "umph" and dropped the subject.

As much as she hated to admit it, the so-called "matrimony" of Austria and Hungary was a political compromise. That and only that. Ever since the Ottoman Empire's demise, she had lived under Austria. Nearly two whole centuries. Of course she admired him. His impeccable taste in fashion, his gift with music, and his calm cleverness that was the very foundation of his personality. But he was simply not open-minded. Too stubborn. Too conservative. He did not even bother to reconcile their differences. It was frustrating to live with him, and even more frustrating being his wife. Their marriage was supposed to give her more autonomy and freedom, and in a sense it did. Her government had more say and her people more rights, so naturally she was happy. But she herself was trapped. Trapped in Vienna. Trapped in lavish palaces. Trapped in overly-detailed royal etiquette. Trapped in constraining layers of heavy, aristocratic clothing. Trapped with Austria. She was tired of politics. She yearned for freedom.

"Hey, Hungary…"

She snapped out of her whirlpool of thoughts to find an unusual emotion in Prussia's ruby red eyes. Something like…?

"You remember a long time back, we swore to never get married?"

She nodded slowly, lost in thought. It was so long ago, and everything was different then. In fact, she still had the wonderful illusion of being a boy.

"Well, I'm going to stick by that promise. I just," he shrugged awkwardly, "wanted you to know that."

Another throb of pain left her winded with the sound her heartbeat resounding loudly through her chest. She tried to clear her head, but couldn't escape the surge of emotion that was fogging up her mind. She propped her head up with her elbow on the table. "Sometimes, you don't get a choice."

Prussia didn't answer. Instead, he turned his head to stare at the banner of the black double-headed eagle hanging on the opposite wall. That was something he, of all people, needn't be told. If he had had a choice, there were many things he would've done by now, and one of them was to never go on a foreign relations mission to Vienna. Because it was killing him slowly on the inside.

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><p>1 …threaten to resign!- Otto von Bismarck is known to threaten to resign when the King didn't listen to him. xD<p>

2 Otto von Bismarck (the Iron Chancellor)- (1 April 1815 – 30 July 1898) A powerful German statesman who unified Germany as a single state in the late 1800s and launched Prussia to the height of its glory as the dominating state in the German Empire. An insightful, shrewd, and Machiavellian man, he is known for his use of Realpolitik ("practical politics" or in other words, the end justifies the means) in his manipulation of German politics.

3 Austria-Hungary- (1867–1918)also known as the Austro-Hungarian Empire or more formally as Kingdoms and Lands Represented in the Imperial Council and the Lands of the Holy Hungarian Crown of Saint Stephen (Mein Gott, that's a mouthful) is the conglomerate body of Habsburg Austria and Hungary prior to and throughout WWI. This is the time period when Austria and Hungary were "married."

4 Henry VII, Prince of Reuss of Köstritz- (14 July 1825– 2 May 1906)- Born Prince to House of Reuss, he served in the Prussian embassy then as Prussian ambassador to foreign states. Fürsten means "prince" in German.

5 Meister- Master in German. For lack of a better term, I am giving all the countries the title of "master" since giving them real titles will just complicate things.

6 Gyula Andrássy (3 March 1823 – 18 February 1890)- a Hungarian statesman who was the Prime Minister of Hungary and later the foreign minister of Austria-Hungary. Criticized for being a radical and even exiled once in the earlier years of his life, he returned only to prove himself a strong debater and suited for dealing with foreign policy. He was the key role in bringing back Austria's influence in European politics after it lost considerable influence in Italy and Germany.

7 The Palace of Versailles- is the world's largest royal palace ever built in the history of ever. It is considered the first and "original" royal palace of the so-called "age of monarchs." Many other monarchs tried to copy the grandeur of the palace, some of the most famous examples being Schonbrunn Palace at Vienna, Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, and Schloss Charlottenburg in Berlin, but none can compare with the extremely lavish and large Palace at Versailles. Those crazy French…

8 Willkomen- Welcome.

9 Stuck in their old ways- Austria was extremely conservative, thanks to the policy of Klemens von Metternich.

10 Cuirasse bodice- a popular type of bodice in Victorian women's fashion in which the women's upper torso is tightly corseted and with a slim-fitting, synched waist.

11 Mätresse- mistress

12 His Imperial and Royal Majesty- this is used because the Emperor of Austria was both Emperor and King.

13 Franz Joseph I of Austria (18 August 1830 – 21 November 1916)- he was Emperor of Austria, King of Bohemia, King of Croatia, Apostolic King of Hungary, King of Galicia and Lodomeria and Grand Duke of Cracow. During his reign, Austria's place as a European power was restored after the political revolutions of 1848.

14 Count Johann Bernhard von Rechberg und Rothenlöwen (17 July 1806 – 26 February 1899) - an Austrian statesman, who at this time was the head of the Austrian government, or the Chairman of Austrian Ministers' Conference.

15 Barely breathing- Austro -Prussian War, also known as the Seven Weeks War (14 June – 23 August 1866). Austria suffered a devastating loss.

16 Isten- God in Hungarian. Oh my God would be O, Istenem.

17 Nem- No in Hungarian.

18 Kedves- "dear" in Hungarian. But of course, Germany doesn't know that.

19 Schwutel- faggot.

20 Fogd be a szád- "Shut your face" in Hungarian.

21 Habsburg- the famous House of Habsburg that gained power in Germany during the 13th century and later ruled the Habsburg Empire centered from Austria. They are the long-standing Austrian royal family, yielding countless Holy Roman Emperors and important monarchs (eg. Queen Maria Theresa of Austria). The Habsburgs have been key players in the European struggle for power for centuries past.

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><p><em>Sorry for not updating for so long! If you know history well, then you prolly won't need the footnotes that much tho. They're just there for convenience. And anybody who speaks German or Hungarian, feel free to correct me harshly! (I am Asian. it doesnt work. xD) Anewayz, review? I really want opinions on this esp. because i haven't picked this up for so long. <em>


	3. Part 2

_Ok, part two finally out! I've actually been done with this for a while, but i never bothered to proofread for the third time and add some footnotes and accent marks (some of which i might have missed... O.o) Lots of political talk and some emotional tensions. Enjoiiii_

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><p><strong>October, 1648<strong>

**Westphalia**

Prussia still remembered so vividly. Stepping out onto the land of the dead. The waste. The rubble. How many bodies lay under the earth had tread? That feeling of those slaughtered souls only separated by a thin layer of soil underneath his feet burned deeply into his mind. The living and the dead. Together, all begging. Begging for salvation.

But then he looked to his companion beside him and he knew that he was not the true victim. The boy, his Brüder, with sad, liquid blue eyes, staring into the vacant expanse before him with a matching countenance of emptiness. Prussia gazed sadly down at his brother. Wasn't it only yesterday that he craned his neck upwards instead?

"You did this to me," the boy whispered. But there was no hatred in his voice. Only bleakness.

"I'm sorry." There was nothing else to be said.

The boy tried to smile, but couldn't. "I am not angry, Branden*. But can't you stay a while longer? They have all left in a hurry."

Prussia hesitated. The hollowness of those words made him feel so much sorrow that he didn't understand. "I'm…really sorry, _Heiliges Rom*_. But I have to go now. My people need my help."

The boy looked up, an injured expression on his young, beautiful face. "Bruder…you said 'my people.'"

Prussia frowned, confused. "_Ja_…my people. They are hurt."

A shadow suddenly fell across his brother's eyes. He looked down to the black earth. "If they are your people, then where are my people?"

The bitterness in his voice shocked the silver-haired boy to his core. The smaller child turned his back on the other, his dark navy cape flowing emptily in the chilling wind. Then, without a glance backward, he sped away, disappearing into the barren horizon.

Prussia stood there for a long time, deep in thought. The question was one he could not find an answer to. _If they are your people, then where are my people?_

* * *

><p><strong>Vienna, Austria<strong>

**October 7, 1879**

**15:21 pm**

"Right now, our common enemy is Russia. We believe it would be to both our benefits that an alliance be based off of mutual duty to support each other in case of an attack from such enemies."

"I agree, Fürsten. But of course we must specify the details of the alliance to avoid any future…confusions."

Prussia was sandwiched uncomfortably between Germany and Reuss, who both sat forward with hands interlaced on the long conference table like two statues of utmost accuracy. Prussia leaned back in his chair, arms crossed lazily. He, instead, preferred to observe the miniscule movements of every person in the room with extreme care as he did his opponents during war. A small cough. A muscle twitch. Any small movement could indicate a fluctuation in emotion. _It's just like on the battlefield…you were wrong after all, old man. I do know what I'm doing._

But that did not mean he wasn't bored. He studied the mannerisms of the three across the table. There was Austria, who was taking copious notes, a potential draft, pen scratching across the paper furiously. There was Hungary, who wore a concentrated gaze as a million things ran through her head, listening intently. And there was Andrassy, who sat between the couple, with graying but still curled raven hair, and a beard and mustache for good measure. Respectable and business-like.

"So are you suggesting a vow of protection, Fürsten Reuss? Would it not simply intensify the pressures at hand?" Andrassy challenged frankly with all polite etiquette of a good diplomat.

"Certainly it won't," Reuss quickly replied. "If either side is in trouble, the support of the other would only provide more security."

"But what of the non-dominant ethnicities, Fürsten?" Hungary cut in. All eyes turned to her. Prussia couldn't help but smirk. "We as Hungarians are not sure we are willing to fight a war because of the frivolities of the Austrian crown." Austria shot her a look. She ignored him.

Andrassy put a firm hand on her shoulder. "Be patient. I am on your side." She glanced at her fellow Hungarian a little uneasily, then relaxed her tight fists.

"Now," Andrassy continued, "The Mätresse brings up a valid point. It is not just the Hungarians who might be unwilling. Of course we are of the dominant minority, but as you already know, our nation is a diverse one. Forcing such minorities to fight will cause unforeseen complications."

"We can just draft," Austria interrupted before Reuss could reply. "It has worked well in the past."

"But the situation is different now that the Russians have formed a Slavic union. You must consider, Meister, all the Serbs and Croats that reside right outside your palace gates," Andrassy responded with a quizzical raise of the eyebrow.

Austria opened his mouth to counter, but Germany started before he could speak. "I agree that it is an issue of considerable concern, Mätresse," Germany said, directly addressing the determined Hungary. "But let's consider it in this way. Our greatest threat right now is Russia. Unfortunately, the Russians' power over the Balkans is growing as we speak. The threat of the Balkan conflicts is clear as day. Thus, I come to the conclusion that action must be taken in defense against the Russians. This should be made the core of this alliance."

Both Reuss and Andrassy gave Germany a sideways glance, impressed but maintaining their calm stance. Hungary, however, sat with eyes wide open as she stared at the young nation in disbelief. This was the supposed boy who was barely thirty years of age. And yet he was well-spoken, his thoughts logical and clear, expressed with supreme steadiness and strong argument.

"Then what do you propose?" Austria asked. He was intrigued by this young nation, recreated and metamorphosed into something else completely.

"A compromise," Germany answered.

"Please specify, Ludwig," Reuss said, with the same sparkle of intrigue as Austria in his old eyes.

Prussia was no longer sitting back in his chair, either. Instead, he was watching his brother with a wide uncontrollable grin on his face. _That's it. Show them, Ludwig. Show them that I was right to find you. _

"Since it is agreed that both our primary interest is defense against Russia," –he received nods of approval from all three diplomats across the table-, "why not form an alliance to defend the other in the case of specifically an attack by the Russians?"

The Austro-Hungarians glanced at one another in unanimity. "Then, Meister Beillschmidt, how do you intend to address the issue of a possible attack by other nations outside of Russia? For instance, France is also a dangerous foe," Andrassy challenged.

"Since conflicts will surely follow if the alliance is too rigid, we must agree upon a condition of neutral benevolence in case of such an attack. At _least_ a neutral alliance, that is. When the situation calls, decisions can be made with appropriate considerations."

Andrassy and Hungary shared a nod, while Austria already began to draft the vital points of the alliance. Reuss and Prussia shared a brief glance at each other, both with obvious pride on their faces.

"Ahem," Austria cleared his throat. "So, concerning the length of time that this contract withholds…"

"Should, contrary to their hope, and against the loyal desire of the two High Contracting Parties, one of the two Empires be attacked by Russia the High Contracting Parties are bound to come to the assistance one of the other with the whole war strength of their Empires, and accordingly only to conclude peace together and upon mutual agreement…

Should one of the High Contracting Parties be attacked by another Power, the other High Contracting Party binds itself hereby, not only not to support the aggressor against its high Ally, but to observe at least a benevolent neutral attitude towards its fellow Contracting Party…

This Treaty shall, in conformity with its peaceful character, and to avoid any misinterpretation, be kept secret by the two High Contracting Parties, and only communicated to a third Power upon a joint understanding between the two Parties, and according to the terms of a special Agreement…

This Treaty shall derive its validity from the approbation of the two Exalted Sovereigns and shall be ratified within fourteen days after this approbation has been granted by Their Most Exalted Majesties. In witness whereof the Plenipotentiaries have signed this Treaty with their own hands and affixed their arms.

_Done at Vienna, October 7, 1879_

_(L.S.) ANDRASSY_

_(L.S.) H. VII v. REUSS"_– **Text of the Dual Alliance of 1879**

_The Dual Alliance was a surprise move between the two nations due to longstanding tensions between the two states, though both of German origin. Italy eventually joined the Dual Alliance to form the Triple Alliance in 1882. The Dual Alliance upheld between the two nations of the German Empire and Austria-Hungary until the end of World War I…_

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><p><strong>Vienna, Austria<strong>

**October 7, 1879**

**1:37 am**

Prussia flopped down on the four-poster, exhausted after an afternoon of political tension. _Aaah…_He sank right into the mattress, as if it were a sea of feathers. _That aristocrat...who knows where he gets these beds from. But secretly he's a real tightwad. Whatever..._ He sighed blissfully, ready to drift off into a deep sleep right there in his military uniform.

But there came a knock. Quiet but distinct.

_Damnit. Maybe if I ignore whoever that is, they'll go away..._

"Open up, you bastard, it's me!" hissed a voice all too familiar. It was Hungary. She attempted to keep her voice to a hush but Prussia could easily pick out the soft Hungarian accent on each separate syllable.

Prussia groaned loudly, as if unwilling, but it was only for Hungary to hear. Suddenly, he wasn't so tired. He opened the door a crack, and Hungary shoved him aside as she barged in.

Prussia raised his hands above his head. "Whoa, there." She was pointing a long Farquharson* straight at his nose.

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "We're going hunting." She threw him the rifle and took another Farquharson off her back, raising it to eyelevel and pretending to aim the barrel straight at Prussia's chest.

"So, what do you think? They're new. Got them a few days ago." She grinned excitedly as she lowered the gun.

Prussia ran his palm over the smooth wood and the cold metal barrel. It was a tempting offer. Though Ludwig was steady and accurate, nobody could hunt with quite the amount of wild spirit as Hungary. Then the image of Bismarck's stony face appeared in his head. "_At least _one _of them should be able to keep their heads, unlike you…"_ He sighed and set the gun down on the bed. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, Hungary."

"So? The moon's out and it's a clear night!" She suddenly flared up.

Prussia was taken aback. _She must be really fed up…But it sure wouldn't look good if I came back tomorrow morning with Hungary after spending the night alone with her. I'm here as a representative of Prussia and the Reich after all..._

"Something tells me Austria won't be too pleased," he warned. But he was already hesitating.

Hungary pursed her lips, hands on her hips. A spark of irritation ignited her lively green eyes. "I don't care about him. I'll kidnap you and take you with me if I have to. I've been stuck in this place for so long I think I'll drop dead if I don't get out soon!"

Prussia suddenly found himself with a large, involuntary grin on his face. All he heard was "I don't care about him." The rest was lost in a blur of excitement.

"Well, are you coming or not?" Hungary demanded, while her menacing glare said "I'll kill you if you don't."

The Prussian man thought for a brief pause, then broke out in a smirk. "Well, if you'd just step outside for a moment so I can change, or would you like to stay and watch?"

That earned him an earsplitting smack across the face, but he was chuckling triumphantly to himself as she stomped out with a beet-red face. The door slammed shut behind her with a loud bang as she stood fuming outside the door. Prussia's characteristic cackle was heard resounding down the hall. The night waxed and waned.

"Gott, I wish I could take this home."

"Stop complaining. Those were my bullets you were using after all."

"So much for generosity."

"If I were the least bit generous to you, I'd lose half my territory in a flash."

"_Nein!_ You'd lose all of it."

Prussia threw his head back and laughed. Hungary smacked him with the butt of her rifle. Such was the duo as they emerged out onto the flat expanse of the massive Schönbrunn garden. Both had a somewhat-oversized deer slung over the shoulder, but the powerful spring in their steps was unmistakable. Talking and laughing, they made their way around the back and slowly towards the front gate, where the carriage could be seen awaiting its final passenger. It was a long walk. But not nearly long enough.

As the two high-spirited hunters came into view, they were immediately greeted by a frantic, flustered Austria. A sighing, grave-faced Germany followed right at his heels.

"What do you call this?" The Austrian demanded. He was beyond rage by now and did not even try to conceal it, regardless of his usual care to keep up his high-society appearance.

But for once, Hungary was able to temporarily disregard his anger. Instead, she grinned rather proudly. "We went hunting!" she explained simply, then turned to hail at few palace guards perched near the gate. "Hey! You!" They quickly scurried over to carry the two deer and rifles back to the palace.

"Hunting?" The man stood there fuming like a steaming teapot, seemingly unable to swallow enough of his fury to speak.

"_Ja!_ What else does it look like?" Prussia answered. But he wasn't bothered by any means. He wasn't going to let the prissy aristocrat spoil his good mood.

Germany rubbed his temples and sighed in irritation."Brüder..."

But Austria beat him to it.

He pointed a finger to the palace authoritatively. "Hungary! Go back to the house. RIGHT NOW!"

Prussia jumped in front of Hungary defensively. "Hey, don't you talk to her like that!"

Austria turned to the white-haired man with a purpling face. "She is my lawful-wedded wife and legally subordinate to me. I will tell her to do whatever I want and YOU, sir, of all people shall NOT get in the way!"

Prussia lunged forward, his fist drawn back ready to land right across Austria's nose. But suddenly, he felt a firm grasp on his arm. Firm but feminine.

"Forget it," Hungary whispered. Prussia slowly let his arm drop beside him but remained stiff, still fixing Austria with a sharp, hate-filled glare.

Germany walked up and put a hand on his brother's shoulder to maneuver him away. Prussia shrugged him off angrily. "Brüder, please just get in the carriage." His tone was cautionary.

Prussia nodded curtly, but turned to face Hungary one last time. She stared back sadly with vacant eyes, her face like grey ash. "I'm sorry it had to turn out like this." Her voice was low and barely audible. Prussia gritted his teeth to stop himself from shouting out a string of words he had held back for so long. Then, with one last disdainful look, she whirled around and sped towards the palace as quickly as her feet could carry her.

Prussia watched her go, fingernails digging into his palms in tight fists. Then, with a military click of the heel, he spun around and trudged past Austria without a second glance backwards.

_**Austria-Hungary was Germany's one true ally throughout the entire fiasco of alliances until the end of the war. The Dual Alliance lasted until 1918. In the years following the signing of the Dual Alliance—the one solid alliance out of many null—Bismarck continued to skillfully maintain the progressively-strained peace between the European Great Powers (much of which was due to conflict between Austria-Hungary and the Russian Empire over Balkan lands) through a cunning, complex system of alliances. **_

_**1881-1887 Alliance of the Three Emperors (Austro-Russo-German alliance. Null)**_

_**1882-? Triple Alliance (Austro-German-Italian alliance)**_

…

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><p><strong>Berlin, Germany<strong>

**June 18, 1887**

**21:47**

"_Auf Weidesehen,_ мастер (Master) Braginsky, Count. I hope we will be able to further cooperate in the future." Bismarck, with his steady, calm, and authoritative gaze.

"Of course. But unfortunately, we must be off. Good night. До свидания* (Do svidaniya), Meister Beillschmidt, Meister Beillschmidt, Count Bismarck," Count Schouvaloff* answered with the same amount of composure, and stepped into the black coach, followed by his tall companion.

" До свидания! Ahaha!" Russia laughed, waving goodbye as the coach lurched forward and began to roll forward. His words were soon lost between the wheels and the paved road.

Prussia stood stiffly beside the chancellor and his brother until the black coach was well off in the distance, then finally breathed a sigh of relief. "Gott, finally, he's gone," he muttered, stretching his arms as he turned to walk back towards the Chancellery, "I hate communicating through translators."

"He is a strange man," Germany concluded, keeping in stride with his two superiors, "He is so blunt that it's hard to be sure when he's serious."

"Do not be deceived. He is no simpleton, no matter how he may appear. Beware the Russians, Ludwig. They have a history of wild ambition," Bismarck said, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. The negotiation of the treaty had lasted one whole day. Russia was cheerful but somehow menacing while Schouvaloff was even less compromising.

"Tch. I can't stand him," Prussia scoffed as they made their way across the front hall and up the wooden stairs carpeted in dark brown and beige. Upon entering the chancellor's office, Bismarck motioned for Germany to lock the door. He took a seat behind the neat oak desk and gestured to invite both the brothers to sit in a few spare chairs off to the side. They did as was told.

" So, what's next, old man?" Prussia asked in a bored drone.

"We've finally secured a treaty with the Russians. The logical thing to do is to continue friendly relations with both the Russians and the Austrians while trying to compromise their conflicts," Germany speculated.

"_Ja, _but relations with the Russians will never be solid. After the conflicts between those two have caused the falling out of two alliances*, I can't help but feel as if this treaty is quite temporary." Prussia was suddenly intensely concentrated, a deep frown pressing down on his red eyes, deeply perplexed.

Bismarck gave Prussia a contemplative glance. He knew that the nation had always been bothered by the treaties with the Russians, made quite obvious by his loud and constant complaints, but he had never seen him face the issue with such seriousness.

"You are right on one part. It will be impossible to secure a true alliance with the Russians. But our only concern right now is avoiding war. In addition to that, we must also protect against the French. They tend to hold long grudges*," Bismarck explained. But of course, both the brothers had already known this. This had been their plan of action for the past decade. However, both felt as if simply this was not enough.

"I _know_ that, old man," Prussia said a little impatiently. "But don't you think that things are getting dangerous? It's been long enough that those rowdy bastards in the Balkans would've calmed down if they had any intention of doing so. Clearly, we can't hold them down forever."

"We are not holding them down. We are simply neutralizing the greatest threat. If a spark has no bomb to light, then there will not be an explosion. Trifling skirmishes in the Balkans can't harm anyone if none of the Great Powers are involved."

"But you can't guarantee there _won't_ be war!" Prussia's voice rose to fill the room with resounding agitation. He had risen to his feet, his gaze steady in spite of the chancellor's penetratingly calm eyes boring into his red ones.

The chancellor sighed, suddenly appearing so haggard and old. "Indeed, I cannot. However, we are the most powerful state on the Continent*. As long as we keep things under control, there will not be any dire issues, I promise you that."

"But we are not _prepared_ for war!" Prussia was insistent.

"That's enough, Beillschmidt!" Bismarck had, too, risen to his feet. The sound of his voice rang in their ears, clear and authoritative. Then, he continued, steady and controlled, "You of all people should know full well our situation. I do not understand what you are afraid of. I have known you all my life. You are many things, but not a coward."

Silence fell upon them. Silence that soothed his panic. Slowly, never taking his eyes off of his commander, he tentatively sat back down. Bismarck cleared his throat. "Now, I have briefed you on our current situation. We will continue with the status quo. No alterations."

But Germany, who had been listening wordlessly the entire time, had finally come to a conclusion. "Excuse me, Chancellor, but might I make a suggestion?" Bismarck gave a curt nod. "Since my Brüder is concerned about preparations for possible impending warfare, I do suggest developing naval fleets to better-"

"_Nein_."

It was a resounding answer, Bismarck's strict, authoritative voice and Prussia's bright rasp in cold, flat unanimity.

Germany was taken aback. He was not expecting such an abrupt refusal. Never had he received such a response. He frowned, a flicker of indignity across his brow. "Why not?"

Bismarck and Prussia shared a look of acknowledgement.

"Well, then, go ahead," Bismarck said. They were suddenly both wary, as if sharing a common, impenetrable line of thought that Germany could not deduce.

Prussia turned to face his younger brother, rare solemnity displayed on his face. Germany knew that face all too well. It was the mask he wore when he spoke of his one field of expertise: war.

"Because of the British Empire," Prussia answered.

Germany's frown deepened. He had never met the man himself before, but the name was loud and clear. Because the sun never set on the British Empire. "England, you mean? I thought we were on cordial terms."

"_Lord_ England, Ludwig," Prussia corrected, "And yes, we _are_ on cordial terms, as you put it. I've made sure of that for the past century or so. However, all my efforts would be for naught if we develop a naval force. There are several things you need to know about that man. The first and foremost is that he rules the ocean. If anyone, any_thing_, attempts to thwart that power, then he will crush it. The British may not be very concerned about Continental affairs, but once it starts to disrupt their monopoly at sea, they will act."

But Germany's frown did not disappear. _This England…_he thought, _this Great Britain. I've grown up hearing about his conquests and reading his literature. But I've never been so curious…what could he be like to have my _brother_ fear him so? After all, he is but an island, and he rules his colonies by force. Would the colonies not rise up as soon as there is the slightest hint of weakness in his rule? After all, he is not undefeated. It would not be the first time a colony would successfully gain independence…_

"You doubt me," Prussia stated plainly.

Germany could not deny this.

"He is right, Ludwig. After all, your brother knows more than me when it comes to the British," Bismarck added. "Now," – He stood up in finality. The brothers followed suit—"I believe we are very clear. There will be no changes of plans in the near future. It is quite late, gentlemen. I bid you good night."

The brothers bowed slightly. "_Guten Nacht*_," they replied in unison, and left the room.

* * *

><p>Their footsteps resounded off the paved ground of the plaza in perfect sync. Click, click, click, in the fresh night air. The trained footsteps of soldiers.<p>

"Brüder, I still do not understand," Germany suddenly started, "You have always taught me that fear is defeat in war. So why do you yourself fear England?"

"I do not _fear_ him. I respect him," Prussia answered in obvious irritation. "There's a big difference, Ludwig."

"Is that why you try so hard to maintain good relations with the British monarchs? Marrying off one princess and another…"

Prussia stopped in his tracks. "That is for diplomatic relations. You should know that! Besides, the relationship is mutual. We have a good amount of British blood in our royal family, too, don't we?" A pause. "Listen, I told you there are several things you should know about England. Well, here is the most crucial point. He doesn't lose his wars."

Germany's brow furrowed once again, this time in slight frustration. "That's ridiculous, Brüder!"

"You've studied military history thoroughly, Ludwig. You know very well that the last invasion of that island was 1066, eight hundred years ago, and that ever since the rise of the British, they do _not_ lose. Particularly when it comes to naval battles."

"If it's not him you're afraid of, then what is it?" Germany challenged. He didn't know why, but he was angry. So angry. The way that his steel-built brother acted like a coward. The way that he and the Chancellor were always disagreeing and agreeing. Always disagreeing with the other, but always agreeing when a third party came knocking. And the way that they ran the state with an iron fist.

"I am not _afraid_ of anything! I don't want war, dammit!" Prussia shouted, ruby eyes ablaze.

Germany's expression darkened. "I always thought, Brüder, that war was what you devoted your life to. You know every possible thing about it. So why?"

"_Nein_. You are wrong."

Germany's head snapped up in surprise at this answer. The militaristic Prussia. The Sparta of the North. The sentinel on the Rhine. His brother's entire life was intertwined with swords, gunpowder, and flames. How could he deny every single mark he has made in history?

But there was not a single sign of hesitation in those bloody eyes. "I've simply learned how to survive."

* * *

><p>1 Branden- Brandenburg-Prussia (1618–1701) was a strange, loose conglomerate of German strips of land united only by the House of Hohenzollerns.<p>

2 Heiliges Römisches Reich- Holy Roman Empire in German

3 Farquharson rifle- a big-game hunting rifle invented by the Scottish man John Farquharson in 1875. It was considered a superior rifle, and prized today as a rare collection piece.

4 До свидания- pronounced Dah-svee-DAH-nyah, goodbye in Russian.

5 Count Schouvaloff- Prussian diplomat. He was ambassador to the Berlin Conference and other alliances prior to the war.

6 Falling out of two alliances-The Three Emperors' League and Alliance of the Three Emperors between Austria-Hungary, Russia, and Germany have all been discontinued after conflicts between Austria-Hungary and Russia over Balkan territory.

7 They tend to hold long grudges- the French were vengeful after the Franco-Prussian War, in which the French suffered a humiliating defeat. Thus, Bismarck's foreign policy has always been to isolate France politically by allying with the other Great Powers on the Continent.

8 European Continent- Europe excluding the UK (Iggs is special).

9 Guten Nacht- good night in German

* * *

><p><em>Disclaimer: there is no intention in this work to politically offend anyone or accurately represent political procedures. This is a work of fiction. <em>

_Ok, now that that's done and over with...sorry for not updating for SOOO long! I know that Prussian Blue's been kind of like an on and off project for me mostly because i'm concentrating on pushing through the ending of Cosa Nostra right now, but i promise ill make this my main project as soon as i get done with Cosa Nostra since it's the only long-term story that i have in mind right now. everything else are meant to be short stories. Ik, lots of politics and drama. That's my style :D can you feel the tension? Leading up to war...DUN DUN DUN. _

_Anewayz, hope u liked and pleeaaassseeee reviewwww because i won't know what i'm missing if u dont!_


	4. Part 3

**__**_Hey, I was able to finish part 2 and part 3 fairly quickly in succession, mostly because part 2 only needed some last brush-ups. But anewayz, this part is a bit shorter and more political than the last two. Please bear with me, I'll get through this political transition ASAP and get on to the actual WAR xDDD! Enjoiii~_

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><p><strong>Stadschloss, Berlin<strong>

**March 9, 1888**

**20: 32**

It was a quiet night. Windless, fresh, and a little warm for this season. There were no drops of rain and no rustling of the trees. No disturbances. Cloudless, the stars speckled the dark expanse as if the lady of the heavens had carelessly tossed a handful of silver dust across the sky. Perhaps this was cruel irony, or perhaps simply a kindness.

Calmly in his grand, golden bed laid the old king and emperor, cherishing his last breaths of life. Under his strict, dignified profile was exhaustion. His reign was long and he had seen many victories. He was 90 years old.

Wilhelm I turned his head with much difficulty to gaze at the ones who stood beside him during his final moments. His eyes first fell on his wife, the clever and dutiful August*, with whom he had had a long difficult relationship, but in the end, she sat by his side. She, in all her pride and dignity, held back her tears of sorrow. After a lifetime of disagreements and quarreling, she was still his old, dear friend in the end.

Then, his eyes landed on the tall grave-faced young man standing behind her, watching him with hard blue eyes and gritted teeth behind rigid jaws. He was strong, well-built, bursting with the power and energy. Seeing him well-disciplined and steady-headed, the shadow of a smile crept upon the corners of Wilhelm's lips. This was living proof of his life's work as king and emperor: the Great European Power.

And finally, the silver-haired man next to his brother, his blood-red eyes more silent than Wilhelm had ever seen. But he was still the same as always. The same as he was as far back as Wilhelm's memory stretched. The slightly unkempt white hair, the clean-cut cheekbones, the wildness concealed behind those red pupils that could never be completely subdued. He was not a wrinkle older. Stagnant. Unchanging. He was fact.

"Is there nothing we can do, Brüder?" Germany whispered voice to Prussia, but the agonized tone could not be altogether buried.

Before Prussia could reply, Wilhelm raised a feeble hand at the young nation and opened his lips to speak. Germany quickly lowered himself to his knee beside the emperor and seized the wrinkled, old hand with his two strong ones.

"I am weak, Ludwig," he began, "This is not a feeling I am accustomed to. In fact, it is quite new." A faded smile.

"But-"

"God has already blessed upon me an extra decade*, Ludwig. I have lived long enough. I believe Friedrich have waited quite a while for this throne of mine. Perhaps" – a spasm of coughs—"he is getting impatient." Another violent bout of coughs.

"Wilhelm, do not force yourself to speak!" Augusta started fiercely. Then, the aged Empress sighed and turned away.

He raised his trembling hand again, this time reaching for Prussia. Prussia immediately sank down to one knee beside his brother, taking the old, withered hand in his steady one and lowered his lips to give it a light kiss. "Your Imperial and Royal Majesty," he said, his usual rasp heavy and grave.

Wilhelm heaved a deep sigh. "I remember…" he wheezed with growing difficulty, "when I was a child many years ago, you told me about…the greatest Prussian king…of them all…Frederick…the Great…Perhaps this is the fantasy…of a dying, old man…but do you think that…I will be remembered...perhaps second to him?"

Prussia paused, then suddenly cracked a wide grin, and gave Germany a proud pat on the shoulder. "_Ja_, of course." _He is proof, Wilhelm. Proof that we made it together. _

Wilhelm smiled his final time. "Whichever way I go…I will surely miss you, old friend…for I am sure…I will not be seeing you again."

And with that, he drew his last breath. Slow, long, and peaceful.

The room was silent for a long while. The brothers knelt unmoving at his bedside, the man who was their king and emperor. Only the Empress's quiet tears were to be heard, finally spilling over after long months of holding them back.

Prussia was the first to rise. He turned to Augusta and bowed deeply. "_Es tut mir leid_*_, _Your Imperial Majesty."

She could only nod, her gloved hands covering her mouth as the tears flowed down her wrinkled cheeks, frozen in shock.

Then, Prussia immediately shouted for an attendant. "Wilhelm I, Emperor of Germany, has passed away. Call three of the fastest messengers and immediately run news to the crown prince, the Chancellor, and the Reichstag*, Godspeed."

"Y-yes, Meister Beillschmidt," the young attendant stammered, staring in stunned awe at the body of the deceased Emperor lying in the grand bed.

"I said _now_!"

"Y-yes! _Entschuldigen Sie bitte*_!" He quickly scrambled out of the room.

Prussia then hailed another attendant, who entered the room in fearful anticipation of the news. "Go get the damned royal morticians! Right now! Go!"

The attendant bowed hurriedly and scurried out the room in the same manner as the other.

Then, with the basic preparations dealt with, Prussia turned back to Germany, who still knelt at the former Emperor's bedside, unwilling to leave. Prussia put a firm hand of consolation on his shoulder. "Ludwig. He's gone."

"The Emperor…is gone," Germany mumbled in a low voice to himself.

Prussia heaved the tired sigh of an old soldier. "_Ja_. But it's alright. We have a new Emperor."

Still no movement.

"He was your first King, Ludwig. All you can do now is remember the best of him."

Germany hesitated. Then, he suddenly felt a gentle, gloved hand on his other shoulder.

"It is fine, child. Go with your brother. I will remain by his side," Augusta said in a trembling voice, the rare but unmistakable kindness flowing through her tears.

Finally, _finally_, the young nation rose to his feet and allowed himself to be steered out of the room by his older brother's firm hand. As they left the room, Prussia gave Augusta a backward glance. He didn't know whether to feel sorrow or joy. The old woman had replaced Ludwig at her husband's bedside, gripping his old hands with her own, equally wrinkled ones. _That's it. How it should be. How it should have been all these years, Augusta, _Prussia thought as their hollow footsteps resounded through the buzzing hallway full of rushing servants.

Once outside, Germany stopped in his tracks. Prussia stopped, too, and gave him a look of inquiry. "Does your heart grow cold after seeing so many successions, Brüder?" The question was not accusatory, but merely a mournful whisper.

Prussia sighed again, that old sigh that resonated like ancient winds. "No, Ludwig. It simply grows hard. But it's no less painful every time. The pain simply stops penetrating the shell."

Silence.

"He was a brilliant one, Wilhelm. One worth remembering. There will be many others who aren't." Another pat on the shoulder. "Now come on, we have more busywork to do."

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><p><strong>Stadschloss, Berlin<strong>

**March 9, 1888**

**22: 32**

"The Emperor and Empress have arrived, Meister Beillschmidt."

Prussia gave a curt nod and waved the messenger out of the room. He then swiftly gestured for his brooding brother sitting behind him on the couch. Traces of red were still slightly visible around the rims of Germany's eyes. He had excused himself an hour beforehand to his bedchamber, and had returned only twenty minutes ago.

"We have to greet our new sovereign, Ludwig."

Germany nodded and rose to follow his brother out of the room. But each step he took was heavier than the one before. He was fatigued in a way he had never experienced before, as if numb from the core. He followed his brother's shoulder, bobbing up and down in front of him like an upright sword donned in black. Black, and not the dark Prussian blue his brother was so fond of. Black, because of death. Germany gazed down at his own sleeves. Black just as well. The empire was mourning.

Soon, they reached the lounge in which their royal visitors awaited them. Two servants dressed in light blue and white flanked the doorway, bowing as the two Meister neared. Prussia waved for them to leave. "No disturbances, hear me?" he commanded as the two hastened to take their leave.

Pushing open the polished mahogany door soundlessly, the brothers found the new Emperor and Empress sitting rigidly, backs to the door. At their entrance, the royal couple immediately rose to their feet, turning anxiously to face the brothers. Friedrich*, the former heir and present Emperor, tall and distinguished, in his later middle-age years, with a large but finely-groomed beard down his chin coupled by two sweeps of mustache in perfect form. However, his regal appearance was nonetheless marked by fragility, his pale countenance underscored by the tube protruding from his throat. Beside him was his wife, the proud Victoria*, Princess Royal of Great Britain, in all her magnificent English glory.

Prussia and Germany instantaneously approached the two royals and sank down onto one knee in unison, bowing their heads in the utmost respect. "Your Imperial and Royal Majesties."

Friedrich gestured at the two kneeling before him gravely. "Rise," he said. But the state of his voice surprised Prussia and Germany. It was hoarse, rough, and forced, as if he was pained to utter a single word. The brothers shared a quick, worried glance as they rose back up to their feet.

"Congratulations on your ascension to the throne, Your Imperial and Royal Majesty," Germany said with another bow of the head.

"Much gratitude for your words of kindness, Ludwig. But we must leave the formalities for the morrow. Firstly, how is Mother?" Friedrich inquired good-naturedly. However, his voice was still strained, as if requiring immense effort.

"Please, do not strain yourself, your Majesty," Prussia answered hurriedly, then added, "The Queen Dowager is mourning. But then again, so are we." He waved to himself and Germany.

"I see you must have been very attached to the late Emperor," Victoria cut in, "Merely two hours have lapsed and you're both already fully donned in black." It was clear who usually did the speaking between the two. Her words were clear, sharp, and a little haughty, though her German, even after many years of marriage, was still imperfect. Like a proper Englishwoman, she insisted on speaking English unless the situation required otherwise.

"He was a dutiful ruler," Prussia responded with a quizzical arch of the eyebrow as he scrutinized the new Empress with careful eyes, "I miss him already." His words were cold with the slightest hint of sarcasm, for he never really liked Victoria well. She was clever, and her wit made her a formidable opponent in politics, but she, perhaps, was _too_ interested in the workings of the Reichstag.

"But I'm sure Your Majesties will take on your duties just as well," Germany quickly amended, seeing the sharp disapproval rising in Victoria's eyes at Prussia's goading.

"We'll try our best," Victoria replied airily.

"Right. I guess I should tell you that I've already ran a message to the Chancellor. The Reichstag should also receive a similar message by tomorrow morning," Prussia continued, ignoring Victoria's input.

"Ah, I see," was Friedrich's succinct and rather cold response.

_He's been at odds with Bismarck for quite some time, and it's obvious he's not pleased the Chancellor gets priority over the Reichstag_, Prussia contemplated, watching Friedrich's reaction with especial care. _I hate successions. I need to learn his mannerisms, habits, what he likes, what he doesn't like…ugh, what a bother. And on top of it all he's sick with the throat disease. I had heard that had to get surgery done in order to breathe, but I had no idea it was so severe. Even worse is that he's been politically removed until now since he's too liberal for Bismarck's liking. I wonder what the old man's going to do now…_

"Must that man always rule this country like a dogmatic? From where I stand, it seems as if it's high time for some change." Victoria spoke directly to Prussia, sharp eyes glistening critically. "You and your little rota of Junkers* should heed a bit more to public opinion."

Before Friedrich could say anything, Prussia had already flared up in an undignified rage. "Hey, Princess! Watch your tongue! That _dogmatic_, as you put it, saved us from war a few good times in the past decade!"

Victoria was taken aback for a split second, then rebounded to an even fiercer countenance of viciousness. "Excuse me, sir, but your words are vulgar and coarse! I'm sure you must have had too much alcohol!"

"What? You-"

"I sincerely apologize, Your Imperial and Majesty! My brother is simply overemotional from the shock of losing a companion and king so dear to him. Please excuse his inability to choose the right words," Germany rushed in immediately.

Victoria recollected herself a bit, pacified by Germany's humble apology. "Well, I wouldn't go as far as to say it was a shock. After all, he did live to the ripe old age of 90," she sniffed.

"Victoria, please," Friedrich started, but Prussia's anger was not yet quelled.

" Listen up, Empress Victoria." The Prussian's red eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest authoritatively. "Don't go getting too cocky, especially in the Reichstag. As long as I'm around, I won't let things go out of control."

And with that, Prussia clicked his heels, bowed deeply to the newly-appointed Emperor, then spun around and marched out of the room without a second's hesitation, leaving the mahogany door swinging emptily in his wake.

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><p>Three heavy knocks on his door shook him awake. Prussia shivered, startled, and found himself to have fallen asleep at his desk, face buried deep between the pages of a book on the analysis of Napoleon's military tactics.<p>

"Huh? What time is it…" he mumbled incoherently to himself. He rubbed his back with tender fingers. It was aching painfully due to the strange position he had fallen asleep in.

Three booming knocks again. The entire room seemed to tremble at its force.

"Brüder! Open up!" It was Germany, who sounded just as furious as Prussia had imagined.

"Alright! I'm coming! Quit your banging, you'll wake all the guards!" Dragging his heavy feet across the room, Prussia grabbed for the doorknob with a limp arm. How long had he been asleep on that wretched desk?

The moment the door swung open, he was greeted by the scariest face Prussia had ever seen his brother make. It reminded Prussia of a raging god from ancient Greek mythology. Brows so tightly pushed together deep creases appeared above the bridge of his nose. Eyes of lightning and thunder, sharp and explosive. "Brüder. What. The hell._ Was that?_"

"Ludwig, calm—"

"No, I will _not_ calm down! She is the _empress_ of the German Empire and what's more, she's also the princess of Great Britain! What were you thinking, saying those things to provoke her? And stomping off like that? Have you any idea how appalled she is and how long it took me to apolo—"

"Shushushushussssshhhhh!" Prussia hissed, "Don't you know by now that empty hallways doesn't mean there's no one who can hear you? Come inside!"

Grudgingly, Germany followed his brother's instructions and slipped through the doorway. Prussia closed the door behind him with a soft click.

And then, it struck him. It suddenly occurred to Germany how long since he had set foot in this room. It must have been at least eight years…back when he was a child… His eyes took in every detail in the spacious room. Tiny silver carvings symbolic of monarchical prestige lined the edges of the walls. And the curtains—draping majestically from the ceiling all the way down to the floor—were a deep velvet red with large spirals of splendid golden flowers. The elaborate four poster bed of dark, beautiful mahogany occupied the side of the room closest to the windows—an antique model that was definitely over a hundred years old. But what used up by far the largest portion of the room were the large bookshelves that lined the walls, which, upon closer inspection, were unsurprisingly his brother's own private library of studies on politics, economy, and various aspects of war. His polished desk, also mahogany, was pushed against the wall between the bookshelves, piled high with various documents, records, and books. Directly above the desk hung a portrait of the great Prussian monarch Frederick the Great. Other than that, his brother's room was actually quite simplistic. A few drawers, a wardrobe, an old grandfather clock, an armchair, the coat-of-arms hanging above his bed, and a few other items of imperial decoration. As he slowly scanned the room, taking in each and every detail, Germany felt his anger drain away bit by bit to be replaced by the abashed shame. He had never realized how much time the man closest to him had dedicated to work, to studies, and to…well, generally quiet activities. He had always seemed…well…quite a bit louder.

"What? Aren't you going to lecture me?" The man himself yawned as he sank down into an armchair, his gaze flitting and unfocused from fatigue. Germany couldn't help but wonder how many hours of sleep he got on a daily basis.

Germany opened his mouth, then closed it again, letting out an irritated sigh. It was too late. His anger had already deflated into exhaustion. He rubbed his temples to ease his buzzing headache, then finally decided to say what he had wanted to say for a long time. "Brüder… I would like it if you would stopped making decisions by yourself. Please recall that this is not the Kingdom of Prussia, nor is it the North German Confederation*. It is the _Deustches Reich*_. Please consult me before you make spontaneous radical announcements."

Prussia peered up at Germany with a rare contemplative expression on his face, scrutinizing his younger brother's face as if in search for an element obscured by the grave blue eyes. Then, thoughtfully, "Ludwig, do you consider what I said to the empress today a dire offense?"

Germany frowned. "Of course, Brüder. It was exceptionally rude. She is the princess of Great Britain, Queen Victoria's daughter, and to top it all off, she is _our_ empress. If you can offer no personal respect, then at least acknowledge her political significance, especially when the emperor is in such a…state."

"Hey, don't underestimate me, kid," Prussia answered with a bemused and slightly indignant expression. Germany's frown deepened with this reply. His hands tightened into fists as he felt a burning ember ignite in the pit of his stomach, taunting and teasing him like a little demon. An ember of rage. "It's exactly because she's all this that I had to put my foot down, Ludwig," Prussia continued, "She may hold a million titles for all I care, but she needs to know her place in this country. It's a _constitutional _monarchy for a reason, you know."

"_Ja, _of course I know that, Brüder. But it seems to me that you and your Chancellor are monopolizing the entire state!" Germany regretted the words as soon as they left his tongue. But it was already too late. He could only stand there with gritted teeth as he stared at the carpet, afraid to meet his brother's piercing red eyes. It was as if he was a child again, being punished for mediocre performance in his training. The ember suddenly spouted, bursting higher into flames of rage. He hated this feeling. This feeling of always being the student. Being lectured. Being told what to do.

But to his surprise, Prussia did not accuse him of foolishness, nor did he criticize him for his lack of tact. Instead, Prussia rose to his feet and walked over to the desk at the other end of the room. Wordlessly, he retrieved a multi-page document with small, squished typing covering the front and back of each page.

"Here," he said, handing Germany the document, "Read it and tell me what you think."

Germany skimmed its contents, and the farther down he got, the wider his eyes grew. "Is this…the model for next year's budget?"

"_Ja_," Prussia said as he settled back down in the armchair, "What do you think?"

Germany hesitated, stealing a glance of his brother through the corner of his eye. Prussia's expression was unreadable. _He never shows me the pre-plans…he always keeps it between him and the Chancellor. Is this…a trick? _

"Umm…I think..the Chancellor is pushing social welfare too much. More should be spent on the military, like developing defensive firearms. The French are paranoid, and at this point we can't assume the alliances will hold for long," Germany said slowly, carefully observing Prussia's reaction to each and every word. However, he could neither find rhyme nor reason to his brother's poker face. _Just like a weathered politician. He scares me sometimes. _

"Of course he's pushing social welfare. It's to win votes, Ludwig. And I do agree about that part on the military. More attention needs to be focused on the Franco-German border," Prussia said in a business-like manner. Germany frowned. His brother had always been the outspoken type. He wore all his opinions on his face. Annoyance, anger, glee…But suddenly he was being all diplomatic?

"Then why don't you ever bring this up with the Chancellor?" Germany was quizzical.

"It's because if we don't push social welfare, he can't stay in office. It's the lesser of two evils, I guess."

The angry flame shot up from his chest again. "I don't understand why you depend so much on Bismarck."

Prussia's comeback was lightning fast. "Because he's a smart man. He knows who to ally with and who to isolate. But in the end, he is a politician. He will always do things to his own personal benefit. Of course, I do not blame him for it. He is a great man and I respect him for it. But my point is, Ludwig, that you've got to know who to depend on if you want to take up more responsibility for the state. I haven't let you get too involved with the Reichstag yet because I didn't want to overwhelm you. Once you enter the Reichstag, there will be hundreds of men trying to gain your support. They'll try to convince you with sweet words, most of which are only half-truths or blatant lies. You can't let them mislead you, because one mistake could mean decades of setback. Whatever you decide to do…just always keep in mind," –Prussia turned his blood red eyes to gaze directly into Germany's. So dark a color with infinitesimal and subtle layers of intelligence and emotion, carefully concealed beneath cold, hard solemnity—, "that no matter who it is you become associated with—politicians, military leaders, chancellors, kings, emperors—they all come and go, Ludwig. But _you_ stay. You hear me?"

It was as if those piercing ruby eyes had penetrated straight through his soul. It was horrifying and awe-inspiring at the same time. But Germany held his gaze and nodded yes. _I know, Br__ü__der. I'm ready. _

Then, abruptly, Prussia recovered his usual gusto. He suddenly cracked a wide grin and declared, "Alright then! Tomorrow's your official debut in the Reichstag! Excited?" He laughed loudly at the bewildered expression on Germany's face.

"Brüder! I just asked you not to make abrupt decisions by yourself!"

"Well, you asked for it. So like it or not, you're joining the assembly tomorrow. And it'll be real fun, too, since those rowdy old men will be going on about the supposed 'new liberal regime' now that Friedrich's on the throne. And I'll introduce you to all the annoying ones and useful ones. They'll be on you like a swarm of bees, you'll see. Thinking 'here's a fresh new face, let's manipulate him to our advantage!' You'll enjoy it! And if you don't, oh well. You're stuck with it the rest of your life. Kesesese…"

"Brüder!"

But Prussia continued, ignoring him, "Plus, the paperwork's going to pile up like crazy tomorrow. I could use a secretary. Ahahaha!"

"_Br__ü__der!_"

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><p>1 Augusta of Saxe-Weimer-Eisenbach (Augusta Marie Luise Katharina; 30 September 1811 – 7 January 1890)- spouse of German Emperor Wilhelm I and Empress of the Second Reich.<p>

2 God has…extra decade- There have been two attempted assassinations on Wilhelm's life in 1878.

3 Es tut mir leid- I am sorry for your loss

4 Reichstag- Legislative body (technically, lower house) of the German Empire from 1971-1918, which had its roots in the Prussian National Assembly. It was considered highly progressive for the time, though it did not have any real power to dismiss the government. All Parliament members were voted in by universal male suffrage (male Germans over the age of 25).

5 Entschuldigen Sie bitte- I'm sorry.

6 Friedrich III (Friedrich Wilhelm Nikolaus Karl; 18 October 1831 – 15 June 1888)- one of Germany's most liberal rulers. He conflicted with his father and Bismarck, who were both conservatives. However, he earned a name as a war hero, especially for humane treatment of his soldiers and war captives.

7 Princess Victoria (Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa; 21 November 1840 – 5 August 1901)- largely known as Empress Friedrich near the end of her tenure, Victoria was largely liberal and supportive of her husband. In marrying her to Freidrich, Prince Albert (Queen Victoria's husband and the Princess's father) hoped that it would help maintain good relations between England and Germany while creating a liberal and unified Germany in the long run.

8 Junker- Prussian nobility that pretty much controlled the German Empire's government at this time.

9 North German Federation- (1867-1871) The first modern German state lead by Prussia after the Austro-Prussian War. It was dissolved after the formation of the German Empire in 1871

10 Deustches Reich- official name of German Empire.

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><p><em>Disclaimer: All characterizations of political figures are to my own interpretation, it has nothing to do with the actual person himselfherself (despite the research I did). There is no intention of sending political subliminal messages in this story. It is a work of fiction. _

_Alright, guys, i finished this on a whim the other day. But yeah, sorry this one's pretty much all about politics, but 1888 is a really important year for Germany and Prussia, since some experts say that if the events of this year had been SLIGHTLY different, we could've avoided WWI. Anewayz, hope you enjoyed all the tension and drama. REVIEWS PLEASE i need to know where im going wrong! (seriously)_


	5. Part 4

_Ok, finally done with this part! For some reason, i had to really work extra hard to push out this part. it is a bit longer than usual, and kind of dramatic at parts but bear with me. Hope you like~! Enjoiiii~~~_

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><p><strong>Reichsstadt Regensburg (Imperial City of Regensburg)<strong>

**August 7, 1806**

**Noon**

His eyes were closed. Perpetually. Forever. Resting and peaceful. Somehow it made Prussia wonder. What did his liquid blue eyes look like hidden underneath those delicate, pale lids? Were they transparent, like glass? Or black, like emptiness? But the vivid sapphire blue would be lost, of this Prussia was sure. He would never see those eyes again.

Prussia sighed and swallowed the soldier's ever-present pain that was at the tip of his tongue and the rims of his eyes, but he could not ebb the flow of tears in his crying heart. Ever so gently, with shaking white hands, he placed the last white rose on the black satin bed alongside all the others to complete the circle. The flowers aligned perfectly along the boy's body, only serving to make him seem paler and smaller than before, so decimated from the last phase of his long life.

"Hey, _Preußen. Preußen_! Hurry it up."

Prussia peered up to see Saxony and Bavaria standing before him, glancing down with cold indifference. But they could not completely bury the guilt. Prussia could see it in their eyes, the remorse that thrummed beneath those icy masks. He ignored him and trained his eyes back on the little boy's face, glowing like an angel beneath the weak rays of morning sun.

"_ Preußen…"_

"Let him go."

"He needs peace."

And suddenly, they were all gathered around the coffin. Switzerland, Austria, Thuringia, Swabia, Hesse, even timid little Liechtenstein...Prussia didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was too ironic. Too hypocritical. Too human. If they had spared him some of this peace and sympathy during his lifetime, he wouldn't be lying here right now. He would be laughing, or complaining, or demanding attention. That restless boy, who tried to uphold the glory and responsibility of a full-fledged empire in a child's body.

"_ Preußen_..." It was a soft female voice. Liechtenstein. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder in comfort while Hesse grabbed his arm to steer him away. But Prussia had to crane his neck back, as if entranced by a spell. Never for a moment did his crimson eyes leave the coffin that lay behind him.

The few black-robed gravediggers lifted the coffin off the ground and steadily lowered it into the deep rectangular ravine carved harshly into the cold, damp ground. So this was where he will spend eternity. Alone and isolated from the unkind world he so loved.

The lid slid close with a soft thump. That delicate face and feather blonde hair was lost forever. They all lined up wordlessly to say their last words. Prussia purposely allowed the others to go ahead of him. He did not want to say it _Abschied*__. _He could not say it. _Abschied. _He was really gone. _Abschied. _

The air was heavy and musty, but Prussia's eyes were dry. He did not forget his duty as a soldier. He was the strength. The strength that the Holy Roman Empire did not have. But that boy had so much more courage. More than the whole lot of them added up together. Shameful. That's what they were. They lived and breathed shame.

"Meister _Preußen_...everyone else has paid their respects." A humble worker reminded him nervously. It was quite a difficult job after all, putting to rest a nation-state, though knowing he had struggled so hard to continue living.

Prussia did not respond, but simply stood and stared. He could sense them, their eyes on his back, all keeping a fair distance but watchful nonetheless. It was always like this. And it had tortured and finally managed to kill their final link. His mind was blank, his feet heavy, and his hands unfeeling as he finally dragged himself over to the edge of the grave and scooped up a handful of earth. He felt its cool, wet, softness in his palm, and slowly allowed it to sift through the cracks between his fingers and come to rest on the coffin. Then his hands found their way to the fine-edged iron cross* that was pinned over his dark blue overcoat of the Prussian military. The cross lay heavy on the left side of his chest, almost as if he was liable to fall over to one side. Weighing down his heart. His lips parted in a desolate whisper. "May better days be before you…"

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><p><em><strong>Stadtschloss, <strong>_**Berlin**

**June 9, 1888**

**1:33 pm **

Attack. Parry. Riposte*. Parry, balestra*, and lunge. Parry and counter riposte. Counter and thrust. Parry and lunge…

Two figures danced across the empty ballroom, like the leopard, graceful and vicious as their powerful yet agile body propelled them forward to clash again and again. Their silhouettes flitted across the polished marble floor, their footsteps reverberating off of the marble pillars and ceiling. Footsteps and clashes. Synced and rhythmic. It was a different type of dance. The dance between fighters, the dance that embodies the spirit of noble knights in battle. A different type of dance. But a dance nonetheless.

His brother's lithe figure pranced before his eyes. His brother knew the steps like natural instinct. He was a frightfully fast dancer. Germany's face was seized with concentration. It was a strange power that his opponent wielded, almost uncanny. No matter how many times Germany tried to attack, he was always forced back into defense. Then, a split second flash of glinting blood red eyes, and with lethal accuracy, a strike like lightning. A sudden, insurmountable force on his wrist. And Germany's blade hit the floor with a clang. It slid a short length away from his foot on the smooth marble.

"I win again!" Prussia cackled with a triumphant grin.

Germany sighed and bent down to pick up his rapier*, the thin, long, blade catching a refraction of the sunlight filtering through the grand Rococo windows. With a frustrated grunt, he experimented with several different grips on the hilt and made a few practice thrusts. The blade cut through the air, like the crack of a whip, fast and powerful, resounding through the empty marble hall with clean-cut menace. Withdrawing the rapier, Germany shook his head, which was pounding with irritation. "I don't understand what I'm missing."

"Well, then, let's find out," Prussia stated matter-of-factly. "On guard!"

Germany automatically assumed the _en garde_ position almost as quickly as Prussia gave the order, his reactions being so synced to the training commands it was already a natural reflex. Prussia made a slow circle around Germany, examining the stature with expert eyes. Then, he stopped and directly faced his younger brother, much like a coach to his trainee.

"Alright, relax." Germany did as was told.

"You're stance is perfect. Steady, but giving enough for agility of movement. Your footwork is excellent. Balanced and agile all at once. Speed is exceptional, so is blade work and concentration. You execute each move precisely, and the thrust power is extraordinary," Prussia concluded with his arms folded across his chest.

Germany frowned, confused. "So, why do I lose?"

"Because, Ludwig, your attacks are perfect and actually quite cruel at times, but they're too blunt. They're powerful and fast, but they lack accuracy."

The younger nation grew defiant. "Accuracy? I can strike a point on a target's body 98% of the time! If I recall correctly, you made sure of that personally."

"_Ja_, you can. But that's not the kind of accuracy I'm talking about. The accuracy I'm talking about," –Prussia smirked at his brother's befuddled expression and raised a finger to point to his own head—, "is in here." A pause, then he continued, "Accuracy isn't how perfectly you execute each position, each move, each and every detail. And neither is it how precisely you strike your target. The accuracy I'm talking about is how accurately you can predict your opponents' moves, and how accurately you can predict which methods will be most effective against these moves. I can guarantee you that no matter how powerful your thrusts are, I can still defeat you if I execute my thrusts with half your power, as long as I hit the right spot before you can." Another pause as he enjoyed the transformation in Germany's expression as the younger nation considered these points. "You see, the beauty of the sport comes from extreme accuracy in the execution of each move in the _least number of strikes possible_," Prussia explained.

Then he shrugged and broke into a smug grin. "But then again, you're up against me, which makes the chances of winning that much smaller. Ahahaha!" Germany sighed in aggravation at this and sheathed his rapier grudgingly, still itching for the sixth rematch of the day. But what he didn't expect was for Prussia to pat him and back and add, "Hey, relax. I'm what? Twenty times your age? People need experience with this kind of thing. It's no use trying to get there in a rush. Plus, I'll guarantee you'll be able to take down half of Europe with your skills right now. Spain and Austria will go down in a flash. And I don't think the majority of the Eastern Europeans can trump you either. Honest."

"_Ja, Br__u__der…"_ he agreed, looking away. Germany was grateful for his brother's comforting words, but for some reason he was desperately wondering how he would compare to France? Russia? What about England?

The sound of scurrying footsteps echoed across the high ceiling, approaching them from behind. The brothers turned around to find a young-faced attendant, bowing before them as he tried to catch his breath. "There you are, Meister…"he wheezed, "Your carriage to Potsdam*… is ready…"

Prussia rolled his eyes and threw the rapier at the attendant as he walked past. The boy wobbled on his feet and only barely caught it in his hands. "_Br__u__der, _you'll hurt someone," Germany yelled after him, handing the attendant his own rapier with a curt nod of thanks.

Prussia ignored Germany, and continued to complain as they navigated through the grand hallways towards the front entrance, "_Ach_, I don't understand why Friedrich insists on staying in Potsdam. Every damn week it's nonstop traveling back and forth. Easy for him, since we do most of the work. The Stadtschloss is perfectly fine, and if he does not like it then he could easily stay at Charlottenburg*."

"I thought you would prefer staying in Potsdam, Bruder. A good number of political allies are there, and, well, you're more familiar with the city. Plus, it gives better access to the royal court members."

"_Ja, _that is true, but I don't appreciate the Reichstag and Bundesrat* being _here_. Every time they call a damned assembly to argue about useless details, we have to rush back here on moment's notice. Plus, it's not good for the Emperor's health to have to travel back and forth every time he needs to show his face at parliament," Prussia continued to rant as they crossed the front plaza towards the gates, growing more irritable with each word, "I really do worry about the Emperor's health, though. He used to be able to at least force himself to say a few words, but now he can communicate only through writing. And Victoria's English liberalism is getting to his head. I respect the English, but they should really mind their own business and stop trying to stifle us with their radical ideals and Parliamentary* superiority and whatnot. And with Puttkamer* off the seat as minister of interior...Ugh! Bismarck is probably pissed right now…"

They climbed into the carriage with Prussia complaining at the top of his lungs. Germany could only sigh and listen. It was no doubt his brother was right about the current political situation. They had personally announced the resignation of Puttkamer only the day before, and with the current direction the Emperor was moving in, legal and institutional reforms were definitely not far down the road. _At this rate, Bismarck's entire system is put in jeopardy… according to my brother, his laws, though some of them rather limiting in freedom, are what cements the unification of the nation. So does that mean a move towards liberal ideals will make the nation fall apart? No, I'm probably overreacting. But still, I can't let that happen. After all…even if the nation does fall apart, Prussia will definitely survive and I most likely won't…_A strange notion bubble up from within his chest. A feeling he had never experienced before. Somehow, it seemed to prance around his head, disrupting his thoughts and making his heart jump out of his chest. _I'm definitely being irrational_. _Even if the Chancellor loses favor, a nation should be able to endure political changes…after all, nations like France and Russia have all survived after long decades of turmoil…the question is, will I? I've never known anything other than Bismarck's system ever since…as far back my memory goes…_

It was panic. His heartbeat jumped in irregular sync with the carriage's unsteady wheels as they bumped along the dirt road. He glanced over at Prussia, to find him already asleep with his head against the side of the carriage, a low rumble emanating from the back of his throat. It was only a moment ago he was rambling on about socialists and Catholics. _Sleeping like a rock…He seems relaxed enough despite all his complaints…it might not be as severe as I think it is, then. I can't let my imagination run amuck at times like this. Ever since I joined the Reichstag in regular proceedings, it feels like I'm getting a new headache every single day…so many names, faces, political parties, sly old men…and to think I haven't even fully taken over the workload yet. It's much more complicated than I thought it would be, and it's more about allies, enemies, and pleasing those in the middle than straightforward decrees. I'm impressed how much control my brother has over these politicians, especially the Bundesrat's loyalty to him. How can a man just give up that kind of power? Does he really plan on letting me take over eventually? And even if I do…will I be able to do as well as him…No…I can't waver now. I have to trust that I'm strong enough._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Friedrichskron Palace (Neues Palais), Potsdam<strong>_

**June 9, 1888**

**5:27 pm**

The horses' trotting footsteps slowed to a stop as the black carriage pulled up in front of the palace's grand front entrance. Prussia, who was sleeping against the side of the carriage, tumbled onto the carriage floor with its final lurch. A loud thump, then a scream of pain.

"_Ach!_ I hate carriages!" he cursed as he picked himself up and straightened his uniform. A servant opened the door and the two brothers got off hastily—eager to stretch their legs—then proceeded swiftly into the palace. They were both exhausted and starving, having woken up at the break of dawn to go to Berlin and sat in parliament all the way through morning and noon. The ridiculous amount of paperwork Prussia had under his arms was proof of that.

An attendant, seeing the brothers approach, hurried to greet them with a deep bow. "_Willkommen zur__ü__ck*_, Meister. His Royal Highness the Crown Prince is present. His Imperial and Royal Majesty wishes you to join them."

"_Danke_," replied Germany with a nod, ready to follow the attendant to meet with the Emperor at once. But Prussia groaned, tired from a day's work and wished only to retire to his bedchamber after a nice, hot, five-course meal. He ignored the attendant and walked past him towards the stairs in rushed, long strides.

"Meister, that is the wrong direction!" the attendant shouted after him nervously, but Prussia charged onwards, determined to get to his bedroom before anybody could stop him. He was in no mood to play around with Friedrich's son, who was sharp but too hot-tempered and stubborn to respect anyone else's opinions. _I'll just pretend I was drunk getting back or something…I'll make up an excuse after I get some food. _

"Don't worry about it," Germany told the attendant, "I'll make sure he's present."

"_Danke, danke, _Meister. I apologize wholeheartedly for troubling you," the attendant stumbled over his words, bowing again and again to Germany, who had already gone on to chase after his brother.

"_Br__u__der_, you're being irrational again!"

"No, I'm not! Gimme a break, I've had a long day…"

* * *

><p>"Ah, so glad you could join us, Meister." The Queen and Empress, sitting next to the Emperor with a cup of tea in her hand, addressed the two brothers with a slight frown of disapproval as they entered.<p>

"I apologize for our tardiness, Empress. We ran into certain…difficulties on our way here," Germany explained with an apologetic bow. Prussia shot him an irritated look.

Before the two brothers could properly greet the monarchs, the crown prince* sitting opposite his parents across the low coffee table rose to his feet excitedly at the sight of the brothers, a large smile on his face."Ah, Ludwig! Perfect timing. I was just explaining to Mother how forcing the resignation of Puttkamer was a grave mistake!" Then, to Prussia graciously, "_Guten Tag, _Meister Beillschmidt."

"I am glad to see you are well, Your Royal Highness," Germany responded with a slight dip of the head. It had been about six months since they had last seen each other, and it seemed as if Wilhelm's habit of dressing in military uniform was becoming more and more elaborate. The man himself, young and energetic at 29 years old, was the very essence of the Junker military man, with high cheek bones, an angular jaw, bellicose blue eyes, a perfectly straight nose, and to top it all off, a stylish handlebar moustache. He was donned in the finest of military uniforms, white with golden collar and lining. _I see his taste hasn't changed, _thought Germany with an inward sigh. He had known Wilhelm since he was a boy and Wilhelm, though an entire decade younger, had grown up alongside the nation at pretty much the same rate. It was a strange relationship, but in a sense, they were childhood friends.

"I thought I told you not to call me that, Ludwig," Wilhelm demanded.

"Wilhelm, sit down," Victoria interjected, then held up a piece of paper for him to see, "And that's a direct order from your father." He sat down, albeit grudgingly. Victoria gestured to the armchairs on either side of the couch. "Please take a seat."

"Now, as we were discussing the case of Puttkamer," Wilhelm continued as the brothers settled down, "I must point out that though the Fürst's* choice for Interior Minister does not suit many people's taste, Puttkamer is a practical man, devoted to the state, and a much better choice than Herrfurt."

"Puttkamer may have done 'well,' as you interpret it, as minister of public education and worship, but as Interior Minister he did nothing of worth. It was high time he gave up his seat, since it was only Bismarck who was able to keep him his title. But, alas, he dared to play tricks during the elections, and even the Fürst could not say anything now," Victoria countered as she calmly finished her cup of tea.

Prussia, his head propped up by his arm against the armchair, watched Victoria make her clear and logical argument as she slowly sipped her tea, reminding him a little of a certain temperamental Brit with a huge ego. Concentrating on the continuous back and forth between the mother and son allowed his anger at Germany to simmer down, replaced by that sort of wariness only an old, sly politician knew. Scrutinizing the royal couple, he soon realized that though most of what Victoria was saying was borrowed from Friedrich's continuous writing, a considerable part was also her own input. _I've got to give it to her for being clever and quite convincing. But it's also quite disconcerting the way she and Friedrich communicate. It's certainly true that Friedrich still makes the main decisions, but her influence is becoming too great. I shouldn't have let the two of them spend so much time in England. It's affected Friedrich's political ideals way too much. Damn British…why are they always so pushy? _

"…We must further bolster our military strength, especially with this fragile peace that is already hard to contain. The alliances cannot be relied on, particularly those backstabbing Russians. We must protect Germany's place in the sun and expand our influence to match that of the French and British!" Prussian frowned at this statement, and chewed his lips in contemplation. _Wilhelm's immense passion for military glory has escalated over the years into some strange obsession with hyper-expansionism_. _But then again, he was fed nationalism and German glory since he was born…how else would I have expected him to turn out? Gott…this is bad. I really regret not paying proper attention to this kid when he was younger. Come to think of it, I've barely spoken ten sentences to him in the past year. But then again, Bismarck himself says Wilhelm should be of no major threat… After all, he does manage to offset his parents in the political field…But he's overdoing it, that's what. _

He glanced over at Germany, who was listening to Wilhelm's powerful but wild speech with apparent interest. A deep frown gathered on Prussia's silver eyebrows. Germany should know to say something at this point. After all, the brothers had a sort of silent agreement that, when it came to Wilhelm, it was Germany who should always do the talking. Wilhelm was much more likely to listen to his childhood friend, whom he had never viewed as an authoritative figure or political opponent. After a few minutes, Prussia finally caught Germany's eye. The older brother fixed the other with a deep frown and jerked his head towards Wilhelm insistently. _Say something, dammit! You Dummkopf! _Germany only returned this commanding gesture with a slight frown of his own, as if saying that it was inappropriate to interrupt

The valley between Prussia's eyebrows deepened as he fixed Germany with a bewildered stare. How could his brother, who knew exactly what to say as a diplomat and knew exactly what to do between political tensions, sit there and not do anything? Has he forgotten his duty as the keeper of this nation? Prussia couldn't just leave the issue dangling, so he automatically cut in. "I mean no disrespect, Your Royal Highness, but I have differing views on this matter of military expansion."

Wilhelm's brow furrowed, a puzzled expression on his face. Immediately, Victoria and the emperor Friedrich were both listening to Prussia's words with acute attentiveness. "I must keep true to my views, Your Highness. Our colonies bring us great profit each year. That is a matter of celebration. However, we do not conquer purely for the sake of conquest. In fact, though the British are most notorious for their exploits in the field of imperialism—excuse me, Your Majesty—but they, too, hold commercial profit as their first and foremost priority. I am sure the Fürst will agree with me on this point."

"Ah, yes, of course," Wilhelm quickly backed down. However, still unsure of which side Prussia was on, he ventured, "But surely Meister Beilschmidt of all people sees the importance of military strength, no? It is a form of defense, after all."

"I can't deny being a supporter of strengthening the military, but not for the sake of expansion, _only_ defense. Of course, we must _ready_ for initiating offense, since if war really does break out, it's difficult to separate defensive measures from offensive ones," and with an added nod to the old war hero Friedrich, "As war always goes."

Friedrich and Victoria assessed Prussia, intrigued at his uncharacteristically nonmilitant perspective. Wilhelm's frown eased up slightly, relieved that Prussia was not taking his parents' side, but also a little disappointed the man he idolizes did not completely take his side either. Unfazed by the thick judgments buzzing in the air directed at him, Prussia rose to his feet and bowed to each of the three royals. "Excuse me, but I still have an evening engagement of sorts. _Gute Nacht*_, Your Highness, Your Majesties."

The frown on Germany's forehead grew along with apprehension as he watched his brother exit the room in dignified, broad strides. Prussia rarely went anywhere without Germany if it was a political engagement. In fact, the brothers spent so much time together they barely spent nine hours a day apart. Sometimes, when an old war buddy was in town, Prussia would go drinking for a few hours and come back so dead drunk that he could barely sit up on his horse (God knows why he always insisted on riding), but "engagements," as Prussia called it, always involved the two of them together. _It must be a casual meeting, then. Or perhaps he was just making an excuse to get out of the room? _But somehow, Germany was unsettled. The very possibility that Prussia might be hiding something from him seemed to unbalance his entire mental equilibrium. Secrets? Political secrets? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had no choice but to wait until his brother's return.

* * *

><p><strong>Wilhelmstra<strong>**β****e, Berlin**

**June 9, 1888**

**9: 41 pm**

"_Tay-rap! Tay-rap*__!_" The whip cracked harshly through the air rushing past his ears. The horse let out a long, screaming neigh and lurched forward, racing down the street at a perilous speed, charging by a few late-night stragglers and wobbling drunks._ Gott, do I look like that when I'm drunk?_ Prussia wondered a little remorsefully as the drunkards he almost knocked over shrieked slurred, unintelligible, profanity after him and his black Hanoverian*. Prussia could feel his dark mare panting from exhaustion, but he urged her on. "Almost there, girl. Almost there," he shouted over the crack of the whip.

Prussia didn't know why he was suddenly unsettled, like premonition had caught him unawares. Sitting there in the room with the royal family and Germany, it bothered him immensely because something seemed to have become unraveled. No, not unraveled. Rather as if…something had passed him by. All of them. He didn't know what it was or what it meant, but there was certainly an urgent issue that nagged him incessantly, and coupled with the strange nervous sensation, he had done the first thing that came to his mind.

Approaching his destination up head, he suddenly jerked on his reigns. "Brrrrrrrrr*!" he halted the horse. She neighed in alarm, forced onto her hind legs at the abrupt command to stop. Before she was steadily on all fours, Prussia had already sprang off her back and made a harried knot on a nearby fence with the reigns. "Stay, Kugel*," he instructed, then rushed up the front door stairs two by two. He banged on the door with his fist, ignoring the stares that he was getting from the rest of the neighbourhood, since quite a few disturbed civilians were staring out the window at the peculiar silver-haired man in full-fledged military uniform.

Footsteps rushed downstairs from the other side of the door, and the door was flung open. "Who is it, in the middle of the night?" Prussia found himself face-to-face with a flustered and rather short housekeeper. But acknowledging Prussia's noble dress, she immediately bowed, and stepped aside to let him in. The silver-haired man, who had calmed down a little at this point, muttered an apology, then continued, "I'm here to see the Fürst." Without any further explanation, he trudged past her into the hallway.

"Mister! Mister, please do not-"

"It's alright, Frieda." A thin female figure of her later years appeared in the hallway. Her manner was of reserved dignity, and she held herself firmly upright despite her age. The housekeeper instantly retreated into a room with a hurried bow. "_Guten Abend_*_, _Meister Beilschmidt. It has been quite a while. How have you been? Please excuse Frieda, she was hired after your last house call."

"_Guten Abend, F__ü__rstin_ _von Bismarck*__,_" Prussia answered with a polite bow of the head, "Please excuse my intrusion. But I really do need to speak to the Fürst. It is…urgent, you might say." He felt rather awkward standing in that hallway with Johanna, whom he knew disapproved of his violent ways, though she would never show it.

"I understand. He is upstairs in his study," she stated simply, then swept away to return to her reading, leaving Prussia a little disgruntled and out-of-place in the hallway. But this was soon forgotten as he rushed up the stairs and barged into the study. He found Bismarck concentrated on a game of chess with himself, with a cup of tea to the side. Prussia wrinkled his nose. It was somehow strange to see the chancellor out of uniform. Prussia's red eyes quickly scanned the office. It was simplistic, but full of a nobleman's stateliness and a Prussian's patriotism at the same time. The light-coloured walnut desk was situated in front of a few columns of tall, alphabetized bookshelves, which also served as a display for various decorative items, such as oriental vases and porcelain figurines. On the desk were documents, papers, and a couple of pens placed to the side, not unlike Prussia's own desk but more neatly arranged. The rest of the room consisted of some armchairs, some drawers, and various symbols of country and nobility on the walls.

"Sit," Bismarck ordered, eyes not leaving the chessboard. There was always something about the chancellor that offset Prussia's normal cycle of boom and bust, and as the nation stood there feeling unsure of what to do with his hands, he hesitated a little before pulling out the armchair and settling down on the opposing side of the chessboard.

"How'd you know it was me?" Prussia demanded, a little disturbed by the chancellor's uncanny ability to predict his actions.

"I heard you halfway down Wilhelmstraβe*. Who else charges down the street like that at this hour? In fact, who else charges down the street like that at all?" He finally lifted his face and eyed Prussia quizzically. "You're disturbing public peace, Beilschmidt. I should have you arrested. Too bad it's not under my jurisdiction." He returned to his chess game. "Now, what brings you here at this late hour?"

"It's about…the Crown Prince."

A slight pause. Bismarck's hand stopped atop the black pawn he was about to move.

"I suspected as much." Bismarck sighed, and leaned back in his armchair, folding his hands across his lap. "He was in Potsdam today. I heard."

Prussia scowled. "News sure gets around quickly, huh?" _He came in a camouflaged carriage! You scare me sometimes. _

"Just keeping my ears open." He took a calm sip of tea. "Now."

Prussia chewed on his lip, disgruntled, then blurted, "I'm having serious doubts about Wilhelm, old man. I know we initially trained him as a political instrument to create a gap between him and his parents, but he's gone radical with imperialistic ideals. He had quite a debate with his mother and father today."

"And?"

"You can say the future doesn't look bright. He's always been quick-witted but stubborn. The bad temper can be overlooked in normal situations since he's not a stupid boy, but he's bent on an expansionist regime. I knew he was quite extremely conservative, more than you or I, but this…" Prussia shook his head in irritation. "I've dealt with some very foolish kings and somehow survived, so evidently Wilhelm certainly isn't the worst. But with the dangerous atmosphere between Austria-Hungary and Russia and also France being a constant enemy on the side, we can't take any risks."

The frown on Bismarck's face deepened with every word. After a brief pause, "You didn't bring your brother today."

"_Ja_. Though Ludwig tires of Wilhelm's personality, they are still quite close no matter how much he may complain," Prussia answered, a flicker of shame on his face.

Bismarck nodded in approval. "Good. I'm glad you've still got your instincts."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Prussia flared.

"I was worried there for a moment that your brotherhood would blind you from making the wisest choice."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Ludwig's on our side! I raised him, I know!"

"For now he is. But he is developing his own political awareness, and you have to be wary of that. He won't listen to you forever. Think about yourself, for instance. How much have your take on politics changed since, oh, I don't know, six decades ago?"

"I—You—! Ugh…" Prussia could only grind his teeth. It was true. If it were back in the days of Old Fritz, he wouldn't have hesitated with Wilhelm's expansionist regime one bit. He would have throttled on full speed, and probably emerge with a few brand new battle scars, but otherwise unscathed. But the world was a completely different place since the age of enlightenment and monarchical right. He couldn't think with 18th century ideals any longer.

"You see what I mean? All I'm saying is to be aware of your brother's political standing. It may shift, and you need to prevent that. But _subtly_, Beilschmidt."

"Fine…what about Wilhelm then?"

"Wilhelm…Wilhelm is quite a bit trickier. But as long as you, your brother, and I continue to oppose his extremities, he should be able to calm down eventually. He's young, and caught up in German glory. The problem is that he's never actually been to war and have been raised to think that the Prussians have achieved glory through war and only war."

"Oh, you're too kind," Prussia remarked sarcastically. But he couldn't deny that he took pride in his military conquests. "Well, is that it then?" He stood up to leave, surprisingly much calmer after such a cynical conversation with Bismarck, as all their conversations were.

"Just about. But we do need to carefully regulate Wilhelm's political leanings. We'll discuss again in week. Don't bring Ludwig."

Prussia hesitated a little, but nodded, then was just about to leave when Bismarck stopped him.

"Oh, and one more thing." The chancellor had returned to his game of solitary chess. "You might have some trouble with your horse. It shouldn't have gotten too far, though."

The nation stopped in his tracks, utterly confused. "What?"

"The rope came loose about ten minutes ago," Bismarck told him calmly, nodding at the window located right behind where Prussia had been sitting.

"What? You cursed old man!" Prussia swore, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"We were in the middle of an important conversation. And that is no way to address your chancellor," Bismarck remarked coolly.

"_Ja, _but it _is _the way to address an old man that doesn't have the decency to tell somebody when their horse got loose!" Prussia shouted, already halfway down the stairs.

With a ground-shaking bang, Bismarck heard his front door being slammed shut. He peered out the window down at the flustered Prussia, who was shouting after his precious Hanoverian like a madman. Apparently, the mare was chewing on some trees down the road. Bismarck gave a slight chuckle. Kugel. What a strange name for a horse.

* * *

><p><strong>Friedrichskron Palace, Potsdam<strong>

**June 15, 1888**

**4:17 pm**

Red. The spot of paint floating in the distance. That was all he allowed himself to see. Just the red spot, like a single point in time one tried to isolate.

Prussia nocked* the arrow and drew back the bowstring until it was fully extended, left* arm along his jaw line. His red eyes narrowed, locking on the red dot in the distance, as if containing it with his red eyes. The target was a synthetic red, dull and unmoving. But his eyes were the opposite. Sharp and full of life. Then, with smooth, practiced movement, he captured his target, aimed, and released. Whoosh. The arrow cut through the air with terrifying power and speed. And suddenly, it had pierced the bulls-eye.

Without so much as a hint of satisfaction on his face, Prussia grabbed another arrow and this time, aimed for the fletching* of the first arrow already notched into the target. Pull, aim, fly. The second arrow landed right next to the first one, but not where its archer had intended. Prussia groaned in irritation and was about to reach for another arrow when he saw Germany crossing the green lawn of the enormous back garden.

"Hey! Ludwig," Prussia greeted rather loudly.

" _Tag_*_, _Bruder." Germany made his way over to the thick, evenly-trimmed lawn and took to Prussia's side. Then, with a slightly intrigued tone, "Target practice?"

"_Ja, _it's been a while. And I'm out practice," Prussia sighed with a shake of the head, "I used to be able to split an arrow with a second one."

Germany raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Really? Then, show me."

Prussia's eyes narrowed once again, this time not in concentration but in defiance. "Are you challenging me?"

Germany crossed his arms over his chest. "What if I said yes?"

Silence. Then, "Ahahahaha!" Prussia broke into a fit of earsplitting laughter. "Nice try, but you'll regret it!"

And so it went, Prussia determined to split the first arrow. Whoosh. Another whoosh. And on the third try, crack. The first arrow splintered, split, and was sent scattering into the grass. "Now, there it is!" Prussia laughed, his pride swelling up immediately.

"So you weren't just boasting."

"What? Not even a congratulations?"

"Since it's something that you've always been able to do, there's nothing to congratulate on."

"You're just jealous.s" Prussia waved him off, and turned back to his target practice with renewed zeal. Five arrows later, two of which were splintered in half, Germany suddenly spoke.

"Hey, Bruder. There's something I need to ask you."

Prussia lowered his bow and arrow to fix his arm guard*. "_Ja, _what is it?"

"On that night when His Royal Highness was here, you suddenly left. And just this morning, you were gone too. Where did you go?" Germany watched Prussia carefully from the corner of his eye. This question had been bothering him for a few days now.

"Oh, nothing really. That night, when Wilhelm was here, I just got annoyed and went for a ride. And this morning I was in Berlin for some minor business with the Bundesrat. You don't need to concern yourself with it. Squabbling nobles and whatnot."

"Is that so…" Germany let his voice trail off into the tranquility of the summer afternoon. The birds were singing a lighthearted June chorus and the warm breeze gently caressed their cheeks. It was as if time had grown lazy and relaxed into the sunny blue sky. So Germany decided to let the matter rest. For now. Prussia's alibis were believable enough, since Germany had yet to involve himself majorly with the Bundesrat and his brother was known for going on spontaneous 7-hour long rides, but nonetheless, something was off. It was the way that Prussia behaved that night. He was in a hurry, as if alarmed. It was a subtle change in character and unnoticeable by most, but after spending so much time as his political partner, Germany could sense the small but distinct shift in behavior. At this thought, Germany clenched his teeth together involuntarily. _What's he hiding? What could he possibly not want me to know? He had raised me for this. To take over this nation someday. And just when I'm almost ready…he can't be having second thoughts now, can he?_

But a panicked cry disrupted Germany's train of thought.

"Meister! _Meister!_"

The brothers whirled around to find a flabbergasted attendant, his clothing ruffled and his hair unkempt, sprinting towards them with a terrified expression on his face. He stopped in front of them and began to babble an unintelligible message before he could catch his breath.

"What did you say?" Prussia snapped impatiently, "For Gott's sake, breathe before you—"

But the attendant finally choked out his words.

"The Emperor…has…passed away."

* * *

><p>1 <em>Abschied-<em>farewell in German.

2 Iron Cross (Eisemez Kreuz)- a square cross symbol appearing after The Kingdom of Jerusalem granted the Teutonic Order to combine the Black Cross and the Cross of Jerusalem in 1219. It is later established as a Prussian, then German military decoration.

3 Riposte- in French, literally, retort. In fencing, the counterattack after parrying an opponent's attack

4 Balestra- essential footwork in fencing that's sort of like a light hop, usually setting up a lunge (or fleche in modern fencing).

5 Rapier- the blade/foil used in fencing (just in case you didn't know).

6 Potsdam- A city approximately 24 km (very close) to Berlin. It was the capital of Prussia before German unification and the capital of modern-day Brandenburg (basically, what's left of Prussia as a province of Germany). During Friedrich's reign, his preferred residency was the Neues Palais (New Palace), or Friedrichskron Palace as it was renamed. The royal court actually stayed in Potsdam after the capital moved to Berlin, so Potsdam became where many traditional aristocrats who held high political authority stayed.

7 Schloss Charlottenburg- summer palace of the German emperors in Berlin. The Stadtschloss was the official residence (in Berlin).

8 Bundesrat- Prussian House of Lords. Considered upper house compared to Reichstag. A third of the Bundesrat is Prussian (a bunch of Junkers), so as you can imagine, they're highly loyal to traditional Prussian ideals.

9 Parliament- ok, clarification on the use of "parliament." Any national assembly in Europe is usu. called parliament (Reichstag, Bundesrat), but since the British Parliament is quite special, I will capitalize when referring to the British one.

10 Robert von Puttkamer- Prussian statesman most known for being the minister of public education and worship, then the minister of interior as appointed by Bismarck in 1881. He was conservative and matched the tastes of Bismarck and Wilhelm I, but liberal Friedrich III had him resign on June 8, 1888

11 _Willkommen zur__ü__ck- _welcome back in German

12 Kaiser Wilhelm II (27 January 1859 – 4 June 1941)- Wilhelm was the successor of Friedrich III as German Emperor and King of Prussia in the Hohenzollern line. He was quick-minded and clever, however was short-tempered and quite obstinate. He grew up idolizing his father and his grandfather Wilhelm I for their accomplishments in warfare. His pride and obsession with the military is characteristic of the Prussian spirit. He clashed with his parents (especially his mother) on political views, since he was raised to be a highly conservative individual, but also extremely expansionist for German glory.

13 The Fürst- Fürst, meaning prince in German (I think I included this somewhere earlier…), here refers to Bismarck, who was the Prince of Bismarck (Fürst von Bismarck).

14 Gute Nacht- good night. Self-explanatory

15 Tay-rap- something like "trot" in German. Horse command to make the horse hurry (?). Not sure about this one.

16 Hanoverian- a breed of German horse known for its speed and grace

17 Brrrrr- this probably seems weird when read, but that's how you halt your horses in Germany.

18 Kugel- bullet in German. Apparently, Prussia has named his mare bullet.

19 Guten Abend- good evening

20 Johanna von Bismarck (Johanna von Puttkamer; 11 April 1824 - 27 November 1894)- Bismarck's wife, a Prussian noblewoman who was the sister of politician Robert von Puttkamer (Yes, that same one they were arguing about). She was born into a family of extremely pious Lutherans and was reserved but sharp-tongued in her later years.

21 Wilhelmstrasse- it's actually a street running through central Berlin, where the Chancellory was located. Bismarck's official residence was also on this street, but Google refuses to give me which specific number.

22 Arrow nock- In archery, where the arrow is latched onto the bowstring.

23 Left arm along his jaw line- normally, it would be right arm, but Prussia is LEFT-HANDED (I just learned this a few days ago) so it would be the other way around.

24 Fletching- the "tail" at the end of arrows for balance.

25 Tag- Short (thus informal) for Guten Tag, which is pretty much like "good day."

26 Arm guard- leather strap worn to protect the archer's wrist and forearm.

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><p><em>Disclaimer: this work is purely fiction. It is not intended to represent any realistic political views, etc. Axis Powers Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz<em>

_Phew, alright that was a lot of work! Sorry, so many footnotes. Gosh, twenty-six...maybe i went a little overboard. ^^' Anewayz, thanks to an awesome reviewer, I learned to my great embarrassment that brother in German is not Brüder, but simply just Bruder. I'll be re-editing all of that junk out from previous chapters once i get the time, but for now ive made sure theres none of that in this chapter. So, thank you! Anewayz, just know that i know absolutely nothing about fencing, archery, or horses so if you know either of those three things and find that i used the wrong vocab or something, just tell me. For the fencing, i literally spent an hour and a half on three different websites trying to understand basic fencing moves just for that one intro sentence. -_-' Oh and one more thing, if you were wondering why Hungary wasn't at Holy Rome's funeral, it's because Hungary was historically never part of the Holy Roman Empire. _

_Ok, well, again, reviews please? i seriously do look for criticism, guys. ^_^ _


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